Individually Together
by brenna idk
Summary: SEQUEL TO DIFFERENTLY THE SAME.How can two people be so close, from so far away?One is raising, and another is being raised.One is hiding, another searching, and they're paths are destined to collide.That's how they met, right?Is that how it's going end?
1. Chapter 1

**Individually Together.**

**The Sequel to: Differently the Same. If you haven't read that, this won't make any since. Just warning you.**

**CHAPTER 1: YOU HAVE TO BE LOST,**

**TO BE FOUND.**

"You dirty little bitch! You're gonna die; I keep my promises!"

"SMACKKKK!" Was the last thing I felt, and heard, in my time of innocence; before my well-being fell unwilling into the hands of a stranger. I did what I had taught myself to do; I punched that kid right in the face. Over, and over again.

The horrible guy beating me was just some stranger that had accidentally found his way into my life. He was trying to rape me, also, but I wasn't going to allow that.

I punched and kicked him unconscious, and fled through the streets of this 'great' city in Texas. How I had ended up here two years ago when I was fifteen, didn't make a lot of since and I'll explain later.

But what I can explain now is how I was running through the streets in a town called Texarkana, Texas on the border of Arkansas in 1900, looking for a two year old boy with dashing ice blue eyes, with the Gaelic name of Sean Patrick Conlon.

His baby hair, a mass of red fuzz, most likely from the mother, had grown out, replaced with his father's dirty blonde hair. Sean Patrick was a perfect baby, the kind any mother would long to have from his short stature to his ear length shaggy hair.

The only thing that was slightly wrong with Sean was that he didn't speak. At the age of two he was running and laughing, but he never spoke. He hadn't said one word his whole life, but I'm positive he recognized me as his mother; replacing my child that never was.

I had become separated from him just as the guy who attacked me, known as Slider, a member of a gang in Texas (unlikely place, right? But he was an underage orphan just like me, found wandering the streets of New York when the city was collecting kids like us for the orphan train to be taken west in hope of finding homes or fortunes.

How we ended up in the same random town as me, I don't understand but he still did.

I ran around the corner of a building and heard the faint whimpering coming from a hole in the abandoned place. I reached my hand and pulled out Sean, a small child wearing faded blue overalls, a cap that looked just like his father's and all the other Newsies, with a small brown shirt underneath. He was already tan from the hot sun with a streak of dirt, ash, or oil staining a mark from his forehead to his cheek. How he resembled the Brooklyn leader so.

I had spent the past two years of my miserable life stealing, pick pocketing, traveling, and forgetting about the eighteen year old leader in Brooklyn who literally proved that I didn't matter to him, only as much as his unwanted accidental son, who matter-of-fact, I loved with my life.

"Alright, Sean, it's okay. I wouldn't leave you. Now, let's hitch a ride, I'm getting pretty tired of Texas pretty fast." I said soothingly to my adopted child. He nodded his head, smart for a two year old, minus the talking.

And not enough, we were on our way out of that small Texas town, not exactly knowing where we'd end up, but hoping it would lead us from the state we had had to put up with for far too long.

…

**SPOT'S POINT OF VIEW…**

Again, I had found myself alone at the docks watching the sunset. Alone.

I could still almost feel the shape of a tiny wrist in my hand, the cheery giggles that escaped her mouth as the sunset faded away.

It had been two years since I saw her face, held her hand, said good mourning. Two long, long years, in which she had vanished into thin air.

She had said she would leave with the baby, my baby, but I thought she was kidding, and that she would let the child go and we would still be together right now, watching the sunset peacefully mark the end of another long day. But obviously, she wasn't buffing.

I guess it sounded like I sent her away, but that goodbye I had said didn't really mean goodbye, at least, I hoped it wouldn't. I had sent my birdies all across the state of New York, not just the city, with no luck of the _strawberry blonde_ girl.

Where she had disappeared to, know one knew. She was just, gone. One day here, the next, gone.

I had even sent my allies in New Jersey to search for her, but she had disappeared. Burnin wouldn't speak to me; blaming me for kicking out Spotette, and I didn't blame him.

In my head I had run over all the possible outcomes; found a suitable husband and is living in riches in some far off place; found a job and is raising that child somewhere happily in the country with a small house. Those were the most positive outcomes, but I thought of the negative ones too; maybe she jumped of the docks again with no one to save her or maybe she was killed or starved to death, but I prayed it wasn't that.

It didn't make any since how she could just vanish. I missed her. I missed her so much; it was sucking the life out of me, one small swallow at a time.

I know that I'm not doing well, that I rule Brooklyn with a cold stare, never showing emotion, because that was what I had to do. If I let down my mask, everyone would watch me crumble, and I still had a city to run. But the city seemed to be empty. Without her.

* * *

**AUTHORS NOTE: DON'T OWN NEWSIES. DO OWN SEAN PATRICK AND SAMANTHA ROSE AND SLIDER AND BURNIN. **

**So...what did you think?**

**I can't read mines.**

**So review please(:**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2: TO TEACH AND BE TAUGHT.**

**SAMANTHA ROSE'S POV…**

I was walking through the streets with Sean on my hip. He was sleeping, and his face was filled with innocence. He nuzzled his face into my neck and I wondered how his father could have just let him go so easily.

It was getting warmer everyday, and I didn't want to be here for a third super long and super hot summer.

I caught sight of a very rich looking man, and decided to go in and pick his pocket. He was walking through a large crowd of people, which was perfect.

He stopped to talk to a vendor, and I reached into his back pocket. Out slid a leather wallet, I looked into it quickly. He had seven dollars in his pocket, _seven dollars._ That was enough to get a train across the country! Heck, with four dollars I could cross the country, so I only took five dollars.

I was placing the wallet back into his pocket, and slipping away is when I caught sight of Slider, a very angry Slider, and he caught sight of me.

I shoved the four dollars in my pocket, hoisted Sean farther up on my hip and began running towards the train station. I was fast, but with Sean with me it was harder, and even then I outran Slider.

I booked the next train that was leaving to take me wherever it was headed, and took my seat in an old red booth, laying Sean down to sleep.

We had been riding the train all day, and it was now night. I looked from my sleeping child to the starry night outside the window.

I remembered all the sunsets I had watched, holding Spot's dirty, firm hand. I missed him. I wouldn't admit it three days ago, and I realize it now, but I missed him. Sean was part of him, but not the Spot I had accidentally fell in love with.

Some people might blame Sean for ruining our relationship, Spot and mine, but if it hadn't of happened then, in the future it would have meant an even worse heart break. But the worst part, even after two years, I was still in love with Spot Conlon. And I honestly probably always will.

I decided that moment, that beating myself over the past wasn't going to fix anything, I was on a train, starting over new, and I decided to forget about the Brooklyn leader who had given me the choice to 1. always listen to his every stupid command (getting rid of Sean), or 2. leaving, but knowing I made the decision, and that I would stick with it.

And I couldn't be any happier with Sean. Unless, that is, Sp-. Never mind.

* * *

**SPOT'S POV…**

"Spot! Spot!" One of my birdies ran up to me, out of breathe.

"What is it, Hoist?"

"Ya know dat gang membah dat went missin' ovah in New Joisey?" Hoist said, regaining his breathe after only half a minute. I smirked. I trained only the best.

"Yes, I'se know da one."

"Well, dey found him! He got picked up by a orphan train and was taken out west! Ended up in Texas! Didja know dey did dat?" Hoist was a young-ish Newsie, about eight and a half, but one of my best spies.

"No. I didn't." I said how does this affect me? I don't really interact much with the gangs.

"Well, dey stole him back ta New Joisey! And boy, was dis guy angry! He had bruises all ovah his face, a real nice soakin', and he said dat he had got ran ovah by a carriage! Ohh whatta liar!" Hoist was laughing, but I didn't get what was so funny.

"Soo…" I urged.

"Well, he was havin' dis nightmare, right? And he was all upset, and kept sayin' in his sleep, 'Damn goil! Where'd ya learn ta fight like dat?' And later, when da boys asked him about it, he told da truth, and said dat the goil was from New Yoik! Dat she said she had been trained by New Yoik! We gots such a big reputation, New Yoik does, even da goils are tough!" Hoist looked so proud of the fact he was from the city, it made me feel good.

His black shaggy hair had fell into his eyes, but the light brown of them still shown with pride. Him and his older brother Bumblets were the only Newsies I knew that would take such a small piece of information to heart, but hey, if it made my Newsies happy, I was happy.

"Tanks for da news." I told him, ruffling that dark hair of his.

"Yep." And he was off again.

I was half way back to the Lodging House, about five minutes after Hoist told me the news, and it all hit me as if someone had thrown a brick at my head. I was frozen for about a minute or so, before whistling; Hoist's private call to find me as soon as possible.

My other birdies had their signals too, one of them was an Indian call, but I refrained from using that one, only in emergencies, because I sounded like a total crazy ass making Indian noises in the middle of New York City. Another one was me clanking my cane four times on the ground, along with a bunch more.

But if it was a totally emergency and I needed all the birdies that could hear, I would shout, but since my spies are so good, they would already know what was going on, probably before I did. But back to the scene unfolding before us.

Hoist arrived. I asked him my urgent question. He replied, "ummm…I tink it was, ummm…oh yeah! It was Texarkana!" I thanked him and ran off.

"Burnin! You'se in charge. I don't knows when I'll be back, but just take care of everyting!" That was all the information I gave the Lodging House before I grabbed the money a quarter of the money I had been saving up for two years. I hadn't been spending it on anything, since my usual visits to The Corner had been cut short from meeting Spotette, and then even after she was gone, I still didn't want to go back, because, well, we all know what happened last time.

I ran through the streets, not slowing until I reached the train station. "Uhh, I needs a ticket to, umm, Texarkana, Texas?" I said jumbling the words out so fast I could barely keep up, the person gave me a ticket and pointed me towards the train.

I got settled in, but believe me, it wasn't too comfy, and watched as the world outside whizzed past, the speed of the train made any of my boys seem like a slug. But I was on my way.

And believe me, I wasn't one to jump on a train and travel half the country for any girl. Nope, you had to be a little someone named Samantha Rose Brown, or better yet, Spotette.

* * *

What neither of them realized, that they were both on seperate trains, either hiding or searching, going in the same direction.

* * *

**DON'T OWN NEWSIES. **

**YOU SHOULD REVIEW. **

**PLEASEEE!**

**AND THANK YOU FOR THE PEOPLE WHO did REVIEW!**

**YOU MADE MY DAY!**


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3: TWO WRONGS JUST MIGHT EQUAL

**A RIGHT.**

**SAMANTHA ROSE'S POV…**

Sean had awoken and we were playing a game where we had infinitive money, and could buy anything we saw.

Sean stuck his finger at a horse farm as it zoomed fast, and laughed. I ruffled his blonde hair. Crazy boy.

Time passed quickly knowing we were having a second shot at everything. I met a few nice people; an old rich woman in her sixties saw our filthy clothes and invited us to come into her sewing shop whenever we were in town, to be fit for new clothes.

It was nice talking to someone for a change, and Sean sat quietly and listened. The woman was named Josephine Mantle and she was very kind, and I did feel somewhat guilty. I had told her Sean was my brother, because young pregnancy was shunned by the hoity-toitys, even though that he wasn't really my child, no one would understand that I adopted him.

Josephine wouldn't of minded, but there were others sitting around us that would of.

When she asked where we were heading, I answered, "We're not sure; just following the trains, I guess."

"Ohh you must have somewhere in mind," she coed, rubbing Sean's cheek.

"I'se wanna go ta New Yoik." Sean said, the first words I had heard him speak in my life, so soft, shy, and gentle, not loud, mean or cry-y, but what surprised me even more was his voice was dripping with a New York accent, though he spent the majority of his life in Texas, and I lacked the accent.

Josephine looked almost as shocked as I did. "Sean!" I explained and picked him up and kissed his cheek.

"He only speaks what he thinks matters." Josephine mumbled, smiling.

I realized this was going to be a good ride, and a wonderful new life I had set out for.

Until I realized this train was taking us know where but the beginning; Trenton, New Jersey, a mere five minutes from my first and last home since the Lodging House.

I told Josephine it was a pleasure to meet her, and husked my boy away.

I didn't want to stay, but there wasn't an urgent reason to flee yet, maybe I could find Kyle. It was when I saw a girl with the thickest black hair, and baby blue eyes, that I needed to leave.

Silvia Smith looked right at me, ignoring the sobbing toddler on my hip, and gasped as recognition flooder her face. Ohh Shit.

I panicked which only confirmed to her that it was me, in the living flesh. One moment Silvia was there gaping, a still short version of her young self, the next I was being surrounded by guards and the bulls.

And that's when I knew things weren't looking good for me, that I had made a mistake leaving Texarkana and a wrong turn that got me stuck in surrounded by people who were, frankly, not exactly fond of me.

And all I could think of was my baby, my little Sean Conlon.

**SPOT'S POV…**

I hate train rides. I hate train rides. Did I mention? I hate train rides.

There was a lot of stuff that I _disliked _but hated? That section was a very narrow list.

I mean, I disliked thunderstorms when us Newsies couldn't sell many papes, when my boys forget their slingshots, when I step in mud puddles, when Burnin looks at me like a monster, and definitely when some ratty old man delivers a baby at my door, which my girl thinks she needs to protect, and I end up accidentally kicking her out, having her disappear for years, kicking some gang member's butt (what was she thinking?), and raising my child. At least I bet she is.

But trains, I hated. Because, now as I walked off the train into _Trenton_ rather than Texarkana, I had very little spirit left. I had spent the majority of my money I had brought on a first class train ride to Trenton rather than a normal passenger to Texarkana.

I got a lot of stares I walked around the train station; ha, I thought, I am good-looking. Men's face scrunched up, wishing they were me. Girls batted eyelashes wishing they had me.

And just as I was thinking, I would only love one girl, a circle of cops were forming just outside the doors. A lawn with short grass, something I wasn't used to in New York, was the floor of the circle, and I wondered what was in the middle.

Then, through all the whispered being shared by the bulls, I heard a toddler sobbing softly.

A very familiar voice cooed out, "Sean, whatever happens, I will forever love you."

With that, a small, _strawberry blonde_ girl tackled her way through a gap in the cops, and started sprinting towards me.

Maybe she would have made it away and safe, if she hadn't of spotted me. Because that caused her to freeze and shock widened her eyes.

I stood there gaping, too, but not as obvious as Spotette was. It was only then when I looked at the toddler resting on her hips.

It blonde haired boy with ice cold blue eyes with a hint of smirk smiling through his face. Spotette had raised him. _My_ son.

It wasn't until the bulls reacted; rushing at Spotette, that she closed the distance between us quickly, and I was staring at her dark brown eyes.

If it wasn't for the kid our stomachs could have been touching, but they weren't. Spotette turned and looked back at the cops all running towards her and back at me and the child.

She leaned forward; I had no idea what she was going to do until I felt her lips on my cheek. It was short, as if my face had burned her lips, and she pressed the kid up into my arms and said with a pleading look on her face, "Please, Spot, for me, take of Sean."

And from behind two people grabbed her by the arms, ripping her backwards like a rag doll. She kept her eyes on me and Sean the whole time, and I was positive that was the last thing she saw when she was pulled into that carriage: a tough, stone cold, sleep deprived eighteen year old holding a dirty, small, straggly, blue eyed, blonde haired toddler, as we stood frozen, too shocked to realize that the eighteen year old _should_ of ran straight forward after the girl, and helping her escape.

"Papa." A small, gentle voice called from my hands, realizing it was…ummm...Sean. He had called me Papa, but I had only met him once in my life, and he was so tiny. "We missed ya." And he through his small arms around my neck and promised, "But she'll come back, she's tough."

I glanced down at Sean, whose eyes were a mirror reflection to mine, and I said, "I'se know." And walked back to the train station holding my son in my arms.

* * *

**DON'T OWN NEWSIES):**

**Review(: I wanna know how I'm doing(:**

**Spot's warming up to Sean(:**

**But who wouldn't be mad if they're spotlight had been stolen by another boy?**

**Yeahh, Sean's runnin the show now, boys(:**

**I used a lot of smiley faces(:**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4: BOYS- THEY'RE LIKE LAVA LAMPS.**

**FUN TO WATCH, **

**BUT NOT TOO BRIGHT.**

**SPOT'S POV…**

"Hackah!"

"Spot? Whatta ya doin' in Trenton!" A very confused Hacker stammered.

He was about eighteen, and I had heard rumors about him planning to pass on his label as Trenton's Prince. He kind of stole it from me, but added a twist. We were best friends growing up, and whenever the selling was good, we would buy a train ticket and meet up agian; both as leaders and friends.

Hacker was a mighty six foot two tall boy, with hair about the length of Racetrack's, in a muddy brown. His eyes were navy blue, not white ice blue like mine. Well, that was what Spotette would say, because they just all look like blue to me. Speaking of the reason I was there:

"Me goil is kinda a trouble makah." I told him.

"Looks like so were you'se!" He laughed, gaping at Sean.

"Alls I gots ta say, is dat it ain't what it looks like." I shrugged. Hoisting Sean farther up on my shoulders, where he sat, on his own little perch."I'se need ya help, Hackah, you and yer boys." I told him.

"We'se follow ya command, Spotty-Boy." Hacker got my glare, but shrugged it off. Only him, I told myself, was allowed to say that.

"We need ya ta break a doll outta da refuge." I said, making it sound all innocent.

"What!"

"Mama needs help." Sean said quietly.

"Well there, look at you! Perched on yer little lighthouse!" Hacker cackled. Strange people live in Jersey. "Gotta name?"

"Sean." I shrugged, that's the only part I knew of his name.

"How's dat gonna help 'im? If dey are's afta his Mum, den dey'll be looking for da kid too. Specially wid him up der in the spotlight!"

I swung him around so he was no longer on my shoulders, "der? Does dat calm yer panties?"

"Sure, Spots, now Spotlight there, isn't going to get needed in our plan, so find somewhere to keep him or something." Hacker told me.

"I ain't lettin' da kid outta my sight." I glared at him. I owed Spotette that much. _Spotette, we're coming, and you can come home. Your family misses you. I miss y- _I thought until Hacker interupted by saying:

"Well den you'se will be sittin' on da side lines. Well, some of me boys _might_ be put in jail for dis, and I expect you bail a quarter of em' out."

"Deal." And we spit shook, smiling at each other, getting giggles from Sean or 'Spotlight'.

"Let's do it." I said, anxious to get my tough and rough girl back, and we were off.

...

**SAMANTHA'S POV…**

"Ughh what train station did they go off to?" I said a loud to myself, shaking my hair in the breeze. Seeing Spot here was such a shock, I was still recovering from it.

But, I had been released from the Refuge and for good, I think. It was nothing I did; it was the cops' stupidity.

So, they take me back to the Refuge, and have a judge there and everything.

It's a dark room, with a dim light, and a floor that creaks are you maneuver over it. It looks like it came from a horror scene. The judge turned to face me, the light reflecting from his eyes that made his eyes look red.

It scared me and I gasped.

"Okay, okay, turn on the lights, let's not be cruel," someone laughed.

The judge sees me, and says to the others, "Her? You dimwits. Remember? A couple months ago we got that cop, Thomas Smith in? He was charged for the murder and rape of Mrs. Brown." The cops then had to go and check there files, before releasing me into the streets of Trenton.

"Excuse me? Ohh, pardon me Josephine." I said as I stepped around the walking lady.

"Hello Samantha, where is Sean?" She asked, noting the lack of two years old with me.

"He's with ummm…our brother?" I said, more of a question than a statement, "And that's actually the reason I needed to talk, have you seen them?"

"No, child, I'm sorry, but come back to my house and we'll continue the search after lunch!" Josephine cooed as she linked arms with me and started down the street. I was hungry, but that meant Sean probably was, too.

"Really, it's alright." I said, hoping to convince her.

"Ohh, don't be silly!" I sighed and let her lead me through the crowded streets.

"No, really I have to find Sean." I told her, starting to pull away.

"Samantha? Do you trust your brother?" She asked, looking seriously into my eyes. Brother? Ohh, she meant Spot. I remember now, I had told her he was my brother. Did I trust Spot?

"Yes, I guess I do." I answered slowly. I had my faith in him. _Spot,_ I thought, _Please, Spot, don't mess this up. I trust you. And I'm pretty sure that I still lo-_

"Then come along!" Josephine squealed, interupting my mental calling for Spot, linking arms again.

"Let's do it." I said, realizing that I did trust the rough and tough Brooklyn leader, and we were off.

* * *

**REVIEW! I DON'T OWN NEWSIES. **

**I'm a sucker for intertwining thoughts(:**

NOTE TO ALL VIEWERS**: I WILL BE POSTING A STORY CALLED _THE SAME NEWS: JUST BEFORE IT HAPPENED._**

******IT'S A SERIES OF ONE-SHOTS ABOUT THE CHARACTERS **IN** THE ****DIFFERENTLY THE **SAME SERIES_,_CHILD HOODS_._

I WILL BE WRITING IT IN MY FREE TIME, ALONG WITH THIS STORY.

I DO HAVE A LOT OF FREE TIME(:


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 4: FINDING HOPE.**

**FINDING FOOD.**

**FINDING FRIENDS.**

**BUT WHERE THE HELL IS MY OTHER HALF?**

**SPOT'S POV…**

"Spot, quit looking at us that way, you'se da one who won't leave da kid." Hacker told me. I wasn't one to pout, but not being in this plan (and maybe a fight, but Hacker's trying to avoid that) is like ripping out a bottle from a baby's mouth.

Hacker was sending Marie, his twenty three year old cousin, in to the Refuge, pretending to be Spotette's big sister. If that didn't happen, Hacker's boys were located in different spots, ready for a signal that the first plan didn't work, and that they'd have to go in after Spotette themselves.

"I don't even know the girl, and what kind of girl would get herself put in the Refuge?" Marie complained, her goldenish hair fakely curled, not natural like Spotette's, with eyes the color of dirt. Yes, dirt.

"Well, if being Spot Conlon's girl isn't enough for ya, den maybe you should tink it ovah." Hacker laughed as he watched Marie's face turn red.

"Fine." She hissed, whisking away into the Refuge. We all waited anxiously, well minus Sean, who fast asleep.

I was seated on the curb of the road across from the Trenton Refuge, pretending to help Sean. He sat on my lap, resting his head on my bicep, sleeping peacefully.

It seemed that we were waiting forever, or at least long enough to see Hacker fall from the window sill he was seated upon on the second story into a bush because of a bee, one of Hacker's boys rush over to help him, get sight of the bee hive Hacker had fallen into, and both of them running around like chickens until they flung themselves into a neighboring pond. Which was, absolutely funny.

We were all still laughing our asses off when Marie walked out of the Refuge. She was almost immediately surrounded by all the Newsies and I asking where Spotette was. Well, I did, but since known of them knew her as anything but Samantha Rose they didn't.

She answered, "Guys, guys, GUYS! She's been released; they let her go earlier today. I don't think I can be a help to you anymore. Spot." That's all the goodbye I got before she huffed away, such an unhappy person.

But then the words sank in. What did she mean Spotette was released? Wouldn't she try and find us? And she left me with the kid! I should have known she didn't really care; she was just happy to loose the kid.

"Papa, where's Mama?" Sean said fully awake.

"It's just you and me, kid." I sighed. This is great. Just _great_.

"Let's head back ta New Yoik." I suggested, ruffling Sean's hair. He rested his head against my shoulder, as if comforting me, and told me:

"She always come backs, she gonna. One time I was in a alley and she cames back."

"You're right kid, of course she will." I told him, but couldn't convince myself the same.

**SAMANTHA'S POV…**

"Excuse me?" I said coldly as I stared at a stranger standing in the door of the Brooklyn Lodging House. "Who are you?" I glared.

"I'se don't needa tell you. Who are you?" He said, trying to match my cold voice.

"What the hell makes you think I would tell you who I am if you can't tell me who you were?" I almost screamed. Jeeze, I use up all the money I had in my name to come back to Brooklyn less than two hours later from escaping Josephine, after being gone _two_ years, to find Spot and Sean nowhere else. "Where's Spot?"

"Spot who?" He asked.

"Spot Conlon, you jackass." I was out of patience, and who doesn't know who Spot is?

He looked at me with a face that said, 'I'm stupid please explain to me who the most famous person in Brooklyn is so I can go upstairs and get him.'

"The freakin' King of Brooklyn!" I glared.

"Oh, you mean the leader of the Newsies?" He said.

"Yes!" I replied, since when did Spot employ such stupid people. He disappeared out of sight and Burnin came to the door; same redhead he always was.

"Can I help you?" He said, obviously not recognizing me.

"What the hell? Do you think this is funny, Burnin?" I screamed at him; where is Spot?

"Spotsie?" He said, face flooding with shock.

"Where's Spot!" I screamed.

"No one knows, he just like, left!" Burnin told me.

"He's not here?" I said, all of a sudden my voice sounding very small, very weak.

"Sorry." Burnin said, avoiding eye contact.

"It's okay, I guess." I said, lost in everything.

"You can stay, this is still you home." Burnin pleaded.

"I'm sorry Burnin, but I don't think I'm welcome." I said sadly.

"Of course you are!" He said, appalled.

"Goodbye, Burnin." I sighed. And turned back to the street and began walking away. I had no idea where Spot was, or why he had been in Trenton. Probably meeting a girl or something. I was mad at him. I had trusted him, and it had been two days since I had seen Sean last. I wondered if I would ever see him again; what Spot had done to him.

But I also realized that I was completely totally alone in this world. Again.

* * *

**The closer they come, the farther they are away. Poor Sam and Spot.**

**You know how if it was meant to be, it will all work itself out?**

**Well, I'm not sure if they should work out or not..opinions anybody?**

**Well, actually, I'm pretty sure I know what's going to happen,**

**But I still want to know what you think.**

**And yes, this is my smart way of asking you to review, **

**But hey, I have a reason this time! I wanna know what you all think(:**

**AND DON'T FORGET TO CHECK OUT MY STORY _THE SAME NEWS: JUST BEFORE IT HAPPENED._**

**__****(It gives a small hidden snipit of the future, even farther away from this story o.O)**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6: MORE THAN ONE STAR IN A MOVIE.**

**SPOT'S POV…**

I swung the familiarly heavy doors open, and stomped in holding a sleeping Sean. I'd taken to calling him that, but everyone else calls him Spotlight.

The room was silent by then and I stood on a chair, "I'm back; I was visitin' Hackah in Trenton, urgent. But it's all right."

I almost forgot Sean, until he sighed in his sleep, a cute little breath intake, and went, "Dis is Spotlight." They didn't need to know he was my son but it was going to be obvious when he opens his eyes, or that Spotette was the one who raised him. All my boys liked Spotette, and I didn't want to disappoint them, especially Burnin.

I took him up into the leader's room, mine, and set him on the bed to rest. I'm going to need someone to watch the kid or I'll just have to take him selling. Hey, I thought, that's a good way to make some money.

I went downstairs, and played poker with the little money I had left. The boys and I took over from where we left off, as if I had never left. I got confused stares by only Burnin, but I easily blocked those out.

I went to bed pretty early, about the time Sean was waking up. We talked for a while, as much as a two year would talk, but it was nice.

I fell asleep that night, but it wasn't an easy sleep; even I have nightmares sometimes. Actually, I've been having nightmares for weeks now, even before I knew where Spotette was, all of them ending in her death.

This nightmare was worse though; I had a big decision and little time.

_Spotette, Sean, and I were walking, laughing, smiling, and being happy, like a real family. We would go out to eat, and were all holding hands standing on the docks at sunset, just like we used to._

_But all of the sudden, the water drained out of sight, leaving a giant canyon in the middle of New York._

_Everything was crumbling, and Sean and Spotette were hanging over the edge, both of them screaming for them to come and get them._

_Spotette was yards away to the right and Sean was yards away to the left and I knew I couldn't save both of them. I could feel them starting to slip, they're hands growing tired, screaming over and over, "Spot, help! Please! I'm going to fall!" and "Papa! I'se slipping!"_

_But as I stood there sweating, Burnin showed up, screaming at me, too. He grabbed my shoulders, "Make a decision! Because you're going to loose them both!" His red hair blowing violently in the wind, he stopped shaking me; looking at me in disgust. "I won't let them fall." He said._

_He ran straight until he looked as if he was going to fling himself off the edge of the cliff, but I knew he was going to turn for Spotette. Without thinking, I turned left, to save Sean._

_It felt as I was flying I was running so fast, and just as I got to him I slammed into a body, Burnin, already holding Sean. Burnin screamed, "WHERE'S SPOTETTE!"_

_I turned around to face the right, just in time to see Spotette scream, and fall. _

_I could feel my heart sink, and I collapsed onto my knees. I throw my hands onto my temples and screamed, my elbows spread apart, as if my brain was on fire. _

_Burnin cried, angry hot tears, "You were the one who was supposed to go after Spotette. She was your girlfriend!" He screamed, his voice frozen with anger. _

_I was ripping out my hair; literally going crazy, my whole body shaking with sobs."_

And that's how it was, too, when I woke up that night, shivering, sweating, and out of breath. Burnin and a couple others were standing over me, holding an empty bucket.

"We had to wake you up somehow." Burnin shrugged, looking worried. Normally, there would have been hell to pay for that, but I just rolled over in bed; facing away from them.

"You don't look so hot, Spot." Burnin told me.

"Hmmph." I mumbled.

"You need to get out of Brooklyn; you haven't been sleeping straight for ages. Go stay at Manhattan, Spot, you need to." Burnin persisted.

"Sure." I said, but I was already half asleep.

"He really needs help, guys." Burnin whispered something else, but I had tuned them out.

The next mourning Sean and I were on our way to Manhattan, being rushed out of the Lodging House by my boys. I thought I was going crazy, they thought I needed to get a way for a while.

I showed up at the Manhattan Lodging House and walked right in, as if this was mine too.

"Oh my gosh it's SPOT CONLON!" A girl squealed in a very high, sarcastic voice, getting some other giggles from more girls. Huh, Hattan' must of gotten some girls.

"Hey der Jackie-Boy, haven't seen ya in a while." I said, spitting into my hand.

"Ick, I will never ever understand why you guys do that. What if you become dentist? Do you have any idea how many people you would infect?" The girl said again.

"Well, what if you become a magician?" Jack mocked in a high, quiet voice, just so me and he could hear.

"Jack, I don't believe you've introduced me to your new recruits?" I said, smirking lightly at the reaction on Jack's face.

He rolled his eyes, and walked over to the main room, where a few pieces of furniture was scattered around. "Dis is Sunny, Almond, and Flick. Da Newsgoils."

"Nice to meet you." A pale skinned girl with some freckles and a large smile stood up from a chair, her dark strawberry blond hair bouncing. I remembered her as Sunny.

She held out her hand, and without thinking I spit in mine and held it out. She stared at it, patting my chin and saying, "I don't think so." Before sitting down.

The girls had spunk. It was funny to watch them, gossiping and giggling.

It was when they noticed Sean, who cried out, "I'se hungry now," that they went crazy. "Oh my goodness, he's so cute!" and "Can I hold him?" or "What's his name?"

I answered, "Yep. Sure. And Spotlight." The girl known as Flick, a girl with almost violet eyes, and dark thick hair, picked up Sean, cooing over him.

"Let's go make him some lunch!" Flick exclaimed with enthusiasm, running into the kitchen, followed by Almond and Sunny, with Sean bouncing up and down with every stride, saying:

"Bye-bye," to me.

You could hear clamoring and clunking from in the kitchen, making me and Jack laugh. I hadn't laughed in a long time, and it felt nice.

"Sunny! Put that down! He's only a baby!" Almond said loudly, and you could hear a 'thud' and a muffled, "Dat was mine." I could picture Almond, the small, white-blonde haired girl grabbing whatever Sunny had and hitting her with it.

"All da boys are out sellin' I took da day off for you'se." Jack said, sitting down on a coach.

I sat in an old chair, and asked, "What about da goils?"

Jack sighed, "Yea, dey call demselves Newsgoils, but dey don't do much but take up room and mess wid da boys. Dey work for all different tings, ones a magician or sumpting, and dey udders get paid ta keep da Lodgin House tidy. I'm pretty sure dey couldn't sell a pape to save der lives. But everybody loves em'." He told me, smiling, "Whatta bout Spotlight, der?"

"Me bruddah."

"Don't you give me dat shit, Spot Conlon, you'se nevah had a bruddah." He then proceeded to throw a pillow in my face.

I shrugged, throwing the pillow recklessly behind me, accidentally hitting Race, who had walked in at the wrong second.

"Dear me, Spot Conlon just through a pillow at my face! I'll nevah wash it again!" He squealed, mocking a screaming girl with a high voice.

"Again? When was the last time you washed it now?" Flick said, entering the room.

"I do too wash me face. I have to please my fans." Race said.

"Sorry, Race, I have to go back into the kitchen," she said coughing, "your ego is suffocating me." She pretended to stumble around, finally finding her way to the kitchen.

She peaked out, just showing her head and said, fully recovered, "Oh, and Jack, we could _to _sell papes to save our lives, you jack-ass." She smiled, and disappeared into the kitchen again.

"Ears like eagles," Jack whispered, looking around all paranoid.

"I thought it was hawks?" Flick said from the kitchen.

"You're both wrong, ya nits, it's eyesight like hawks, and hearing like three teenaged girls," Almond laughed from inside.

"Make a run for it boys, der on ta us!" Race said, jumping on the back of the couch, over it and up the stairs, followed by Jack and me. Jack clumped around the couch, but I agilely swung my legs over it, not touching any part of it, unlike Race's exit.

"Don't step on that couch, one more time, Race, and I'll make you clean it with your tongue." Race grimaced, and told me,

"Don't worry, der all tawlk." But he didn't look too convinced.

I could just see Flick down there smiling, fixing the coach back up and couldn't help but think about how perfectly Spotette would get along with those girls.

* * *

**I deleted the HELP PLEASE chapter, because I have found the help I need and it was messing up the Chapter Numbers, haha. But If you have a character you want to see in this story, just tell me all about their physical characteristics and just their characteristics in general.**

**Okay, so it wasn't the Chapter I expected, but it's leading back into the right direction,**

**Because, I had to redue this so many times, it was crazy, and I'm still not sure I like the way this came out,**

**And tons of thanks to _xxWickedWench_ and _cybale _for their characters, I hope I used them alright.**

**cybale: Almond, Sunny**

**xxWickedWench: Flick**

**Disneys: Newsies**

**Mehh: Samantha**

**REVIEW(:**


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7: FROM FEAR AND DETEERMINATION.**

**SAMANTHA'S POV...**

"I have no idea where to go now." I said randomly to the wind. It was blowing my red-blond hair like crazy, so I pulled it up into my gray Newsie hat.

I was walking around New York, after being separated from Sean for two days, and decided the chances of finding him again were slim.

I didn't know much of New York City anymore, from either being natural born in Trenton or the fact I was gone for two years, but I didn't remember this part of the grand City.

I had been walking for quite some time when it started raining. No, not just raining, but pouring, literally raining cats and dogs.

It was absolutely crazy, I hadn't even said, "Well, it couldn't get any worse," like they do in all the scenes. I didn't have any idea what to do, so I climbed into an alley and some empty crates.

I yelped as I was violently pushed from inside of one, "What da hell do ya tink your doing, kid?" An angry low voice called.

"I didn't see you in there." I said, glaring, as the guy walked out of the crate. He was huge, literally, and I was surprised he had fit in it.

"Well, don't you have a little attitude problem, boy?" He snarled. What? Ohh, I had my hair pulled back and was wearing clothes three sizes too big for me, but still.

"At least I'm not some plump ole man living in a box." I growled and stomped away.

What I didn't expect him to do was follow me, place his hand on my shoulder, turn me around and punch me in the face. A lot of times. Of course, I punched back, but he was a chubber, all his fat reflecting the pain.

He finally just pushed me into the brick wall, smacking my head into unconscious, saying, "you didn't TELL me you were a goil!" and he ran away.

"Gee thanks." I said, but I think it came out more of 'geh tacks.' And I finally just collapsed.

What I didn't know that I was in a back street of Manhattan, and that I was being watched by a small six year old girl named Cloudy.

** THIRD PERSON…**

Cloudy, a small girl with two ash-blonde braids, scooted over to where the girl had just been beat. She set her small six-year old hand on the stranger's cuts and bruises, using some extra material to stop the bleeding from two big cuts on her shoulders.

The hurt girl still hadn't come to, so Cloudy bounded off, in hope of finding someone to help. She was quiet, and only spoke when it was necessary, and didn't like causing trouble; a rare innocent Newsie.

She found the spot where her favorite Newsies sold, and called out, "Race? I need your help," quietly.

He bounded up, quickly asking if she was alright. She shook her head and took the older Newsie's hand; leading him to the hurt girl, and telling him what happened at the same time.

When they turned into the alley, Cloudy gasped quietly, seeing that the girl had left. Racetrack could see the blood on the ground and brick wall, believing what the little girl had told him.

"We have to find her, she was hurt bad." Cloudy spoke.

"Let's get you back to the Lodgin' House and den I promise I'se will go look for her." Race said, realizing the weather was turning from buckets of water to thunder storming.

"But Race, I love storms!" She said, throwing her hands out wide and twirling in circles, braids flying, rain falling all around.

"We, know kid, how'd you tink ya got yer nickname? And besides, Almond told me today dat it was yer turn to help her watch Sean." Race said, watching Cloudy continue twirling.

"Alright." She said and grabbed Race's hand again, heading back to the Lodgin' House.

"It's going to be a big storm. I can feel it. You have to save the girl, but don't stay out too long." Cloudy told her friend, and disappeared behind the heavy door of the Manhattan Lodgin' house.

"I'se always da one who gotta get wet, isn't dat right?" Race said to himself, shaking his head in the rain.

"Nahh, sometime you get the pleasure of my presence." Flick said, stepping out into the rain, buried under tons of clothes.

"Gee, tanks." Racetrack rolled his eyes.

"Anytime, der pal," a husky humorous voice called from roof of the second story.

**SPOT'S POV…**

I yelled down to Race and Flick, and then jumped from the roof down two levels and landed on the ground perfectly on my feet.

"Spot, you'se more of a cat den a dog. Why didn't somebody call you Fluffy something?" Race joked.

"Excuse ME?" I boomed. Nobody makes fun of my name.

"Mittens." Flick giggled.

I glared through the rain at each of them until the muttered out little things like, 'it was a joke?' or 'yeah we were kidding.' By then they were nervously giggling, and I rolled my eyes.

"So why are we letting you drag us out here, Race?" I asked.

"Cloudy found a girl all beat up on the street in dat ole alley ovah in da back roads, and sent me out to find her before da big storm comes." Race explained.

"She's got you wrapped around her finger," Flick said, shaking her head.

"You'se are just jealous dat I spend more time wid her den you!" Race exclaimed, spitting out his tongue.

"No!" Flick gasped, blushing slightly, which caused Race to red, too.

"You're both goons, now come on let's look for da goil." I interrupted.

We had been walking in the rain, looking down alleys, behind random things, and almost everywhere when Burnin came running down, soaking wet, and grinning.

"Spot, she's back." He said in a quiet voice, then, "SHE'S BACK!" He said, his red hair flapping every which way, refraining himself from jumping up and down like a little kid about to get a sucker.

I seemed to be still taking this all in, unmoving, because Race pushed me forward, "Go get 'er!"

And me and Burnin took off running towards Brooklyn in the middle of a thunderstorm.

* * *

**OHH...YOU SHOULD ALL REVIEW.(:**

**And, I think that because I had made that Please Help chapter, that some of you got confused when I erased it,**

**And added an actual Chapter, so if you didn't read Chapter 6, you should probably do that.**

**AND CLOUDY BELONGS TO _CHRISTINA CONLON,_ THANKS TONS(: I HOPE I DID GOOD.**

**But, I won't know unless you all REVIEW(:**


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8: HOMECOMING AND DECISIONS.**

**SAMANTHA'S POV…**

I was beaten, badly. I was sore all over. I could barely drag myself to Brooklyn, retracing my steps, before the storm fully set in.

Winds crashed loudly and rain streamed down like waterfalls when I found myself at the steps are Brooklyn, shaking in the cold.

"Spotette? A male voice called from the door, as I leaned against the railing. "What happened?"

I tried to talk, but I couldn't, so the Newsie picked me up and got me inside. Warmness…

"It's me, Burnin." The voice said.

"Thank you, but I believe I have met you before." I finally stammered out.

"I was umm... just making sure."

"It hurts..."

"Are you pregnant?"

"BURNIN! WHAT THE HELL!" Burnin took a step back, obviously getting his answer.

"Ooops, sorry. Umm.. Hey, you, go get Doc!" Burnin yelled and you could hear the door open and close as heavy stomps of someone's feet passed through.

Just moments later I could feel a large hand pressed against my forehead, but couldn't hear anything they were saying. I felt my eyelids starting to close and let sleep take over; happy to be _home_.

**THIRD PERSON…**

The doctor declared that Spotette had a fever, and that she would get better. He disinfected the wounds as best he could, and told us to keep her hydrated.

The redhead, Burnin, realized he should let her sleep and took off to tell Spot.

It was becoming a real bad storm outside, and he finally found Spot walking with Race and Flick.

"Spot, she's back. SHE'S BACK!" He screamed to his friend, who, with a push from Racetrack, took off running back to Brooklyn.

Spot ran about five times faster than the tall, lanky boy behind him, and got to the Lodging House in record time. He clamped up the stairs into his private leaders room, and saw the ever-so familiar girl sleeping in his bed.

Then he looked closer and noticed the marks and scratches and bruises and cuts all over her, and realized this was the girl Race and Flick had been looking for. Spot sat on the side of the bed, and leaning close her realized she was sweating and shivering; clearly a fever.

Spot sighed, letting a long relieving flow of air out of his lungs, as if he wasn't able to breathe before; a weight on his lungs, which had now been removed with the girl sleeping in his bed.

Everything seemed to fall into place that minute, like that one lost puzzle piece that would complete the whole puzzle was in its position. And Spot was happy.

What made him worry was that he remembered that Sean was still in Manhattan, and that it was a pretty scary storm for a two year old.

With one last glance at Spotette, to make sure she was still sleeping, he told his boys he was going over to Hattan' to get Sean.

"It's a storm, Spot." Burnin said.

"Yep, and dats da reason I needa go."

"The Manhattan girls will take care of her, Spot. They treat him like their own kid." Burnin tried again to get his leader to go.

"Yea, well, his _own_ mudder is sleepin' upstairs! And last time I'se checked, I was da leadah, which means I can do what I'se want." Spot spat back, and stormed outside.

He ran through the winds, the hail, and the rain all the way to the Manhattan Lodging House, where he was greeted by an awaiting Jack, Race, and the girls.

Spot shook his head, smiling, thinking about how he had given his night-birdies the night off because of the weather, but they refused too, saying that Newsies sell in rain or shine.

Flick handed him what looked like a giant sac of blankets, and once Spot turned it around, saw the smallest hole in it all that showed a small face with deep dark, blue eyes, and a smiling but kind smirk.

"Heya Sean." He said.

"If he catches a cold, da goils will personally skin yer hide, even lil Cloudy." Racetrack laughed but Flick just glared at him, then seemed as if she couldn't contain it, and laughed as well.

"Yeah, our lil Sean."

"Yeah, well I have to get him back to his _mother._" Spot said, the previous comment making him unreasonably unhappy. Flick gasped and looked taken aback; her eyes twitching unknowingly in all directions.

"Whaa?" She stammered, staggering back.

"C'mon Flick, let's go inside for a while." Racetrack said, wrapping his arms around Flick and leading the stricken girl inside with one last long glance to Spot, who just shrugged.

The unspoken words from Race's look said, _unnecessary_, and the returning shrug meant, _don't care._

Race returned to the door seconds later, "Spot, dat storms pretty bad, stay in Hattan for da night."

Spot huffed, "No way. Me goils back."

"Spot, she went away, and she wasn't yer goil, she came back, but was it for ya or cuz she was hoit?" Race said.

"Whose da hell are you? Buddha?" Spot said angrily.

Race sighed, accepting the fact that with this next statement, he was probably going to be punched, and add, "You'se wouldn't be so mad if ya knew dat dat might just be true."

What happened though, Flick, dark hair bouncing ran to the door pushing Race inside, obviously overhearing the conversation take an ugly twist, and told Spot, "It was so nice to meet you, come back anytime!" She then proceeded to slam the door in his face.

Spot just gaped for a moment, hidden from the storm by the overhanging roof, and thought for a while. Inside the murmurs of Race and Flick could be heard.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"It was advice; words of wisdom." Race said, his words rolling with his New York/Italian accent.

"My words of advice—" Flick began before interrupting by Race.

"Goodnight."

"Racetrack Higgins! You come back here!"

"Ha-ha, dat's a smart ting ta do!"

"You know the journey of life? Yeah, well, you have obviously taken the psycho path!" The girl exclaimed.

"It keeps things interesting!" Race whined back.

"I cannot believe I put up with you!" Flick's loud voice claimed.

"I cannot believe I'se put up wid chu!" Race mocked, using the same pitch and tone as Flick.

"You guys fight like a married couple," Sunny called from a different room.

"DO NOT!" They both screamed in sync.

"Totally." Almond rolled her eyes.

Outside, Spot had taken off towards Brooklyn, shaking off his conversation with Race, and awaiting Spotette's awakening.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I never said I did. Soo jeeze just leave me alone I never did anything wrong *pouty voice***

**Sorry that chapter took like, two days less than forever,**

**But I got caught up reading 'Such a Newsie' **

***Curse Addictions***

**Guess what? I have a new favorite Newsies saying! And I'm not going to tell you it until NEXT chapter.**

***Evil Laughs***

**So Go On, Review(:**


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9: HELLO MS. SPOTETTE…**

**SAMANTHA'S POV…**

"Spot! Spot Conlon get your ass in this room this second!" I screamed from his room.

There was a loud clamping of footsteps coming up the stairs, but I knew it wasn't Spot; he was as silent as a flippin' cat.

"You, yeah you! Go find your 'high and mighty leadah'." I kind of- sort of yelled at some teenage boy.

"Spot, dat goil wants ya." I could hear him say from downstairs.

I closed my eyes and counted...3…2…

"So you'se awake." Spot said from where he was leaning up against the door frame.

"Ohh, Spot it's so nice to see you too, it's only been years!" I cried sarcastically.

"I'm glad yer back, Spotette. I missed ya." He said, avoiding eye contact.

"I missed you too Spot. So much has happened…" I sighed, slowly going over everything in my head.

"So exactly who do you tink you are coming in here an' yelling commands at me newsboys? Hmm?" Spot asked, cocking his head to the side a lot like a dog and staring at me with a smirk across his face.

"I think I'm the King of Brooklyn's goil who just got beat up on the street in a thunderstorm after spending two years in Texas raising _your_ kid and almost getting arrested, hauled her little butt back here and crashing in the great leader's bed." I hmphed, rolling over facing away from Spot.

"You forgot the part about da beggin me ta take ya back."

"Ohh yeahh—wait a minute, you little bastard, I did NO such thing!" I said, jumping out of bed, now fully awake.

"Well you'se haven't changed much," Spot smirked.

"You either Spot. Now where's Sean, you still have Sean, don't you?" I asked wearily.

"Your lack of confidence presents my self esteem down many notches." Spot huffed, sneaking out of the room.

"Ha, not all the lack of confidence in the world could destroy _your_ self confidence, Spot," I said, shaking my head, smiling, knowing he had Sean put somewhere.

I felt like jumping up and hugging him, crying 'You really did love him! Or you wouldn't have kept him! Thank you!' but quite obviously, I refrained myself from doing so.

It was when Spot returned with a toddler with the blondest hair that I finally just plunked down on my pillow, so relieved.

"Hey, don't you'se shut yer eyes on me; I just carried dis guy up a flight of stairs, and as soon as you'se sees him you shut yer eyes?" Spot said.

"You'll live Spot."

"Of course I will, I am indestructible, undeniable, wonderful, and extremely sexy—"

"With a giant head." I cut in.

"You'se could say dat," he shrugged, shaking his hair out of his eyes. _Gosh, I missed those eyes._

"Now, say hello to yer mama," Spot told Sean and I rolled my eyes.

"He doesn't speak. Ever." I told him, tilting my chin up in an arrogant way. Hey, two can play that game.

"What he talks a bunch, can't really ever seem to get him ta stop." Spot said, laughing.

I held Sean for a moment, and then turned to Spot, "We need to talk," I told him, causing his cocky expression and smirk to flinch for a second before returning to their positions.

"Burnin, come take Sean for a minute," Spot said, then catching my glare, "or a few."

The super tall boy ran into the room, his hair flopping so that mid-stride it was completely up straight, with his bouncy, long legged gait. It seemed as though he had stopped growing everywhere except his legs…and maybe his ears; okay, I was kidding, Burnin was really cute, just not _my_ kind of cute.

He smiled at me, and I smiled back; Spot rolled his eyes. _Yes, Spot, smiling is absolutely terrible._ Ha, yeah right.

When Burnin had left the room, Spot walked over and shut the door, spinning around gracefully to look me in the eyes, raising one eyebrow.

"What happened between us…" I began, looking anywhere except Spot.

"We've been through a lotta shit, but I'se guess dat just makes us dat much stronger." I slightly smiled when Spot said this, his leader personality shining through.

"I really missed you," I admitted quietly.

"Me too," he said, walking over to the bed, "a lot. And what happened with Sean—I was young, and stupid, but I'se ain't anymore."

"Boys," I said, rubbing his head and messing his hair. He shook it out when I was done, a lot like a dog, which made me laugh.

"While you'se were gone, I kinda realized dat I loved ya." Spot said, looking up at me through his wall of bangs.

I gasped quietly; it wasn't any day that the guy you like told you that.

I don't think I had ever been this close to Spot's sensitive side—that is, if he has one.

"Love or loved? Like still or in the past?" I asked quietly not sure of the turn in conversation.

"Both," he said, shrugging like it was nothing, but because I used the same hide-your-feelings-with-a-mask face, I could easily pick out the crack in it, showing a little nervousness in his blue eyes.

I sighed, "me too." It was only then I looked back up at him, throwing the avoid-all-eye contact out the door. We were sitting next to each other on the top bunk of Spot's bed, legs dangling over the side.

"Good," Spot laughed, "Because I'se was startin' to worry." Seeing my confused face he continued, "I'se mean, who isn't in love wid Spot Conlon?"

I groaned, and playfully pushed his shoulder; maybe just a little too hard, because I kind of sent him flying to the floor. Of course, he landed on two feet, and looked up at me shaking his head.

"Cat-Boy! Dun dun dun!" I said, humming a super-hero tune, and badly at that.

"Okay. Fine." He said, and for a second I thought he was really mad because he disappeared from my area of vision. But it was only enough so he could sneak up behind me, grab me around the waist, and pick me up, bridal-style, smirking.

"What are you doing?" I yelled, flailing my arms and legs in all directions, probably resembling some crazy ass, but I wanted to know what was going on.

"You'se gotta wait an' see." He smirked.

Spot was strong enough that my rapid flailing didn't faze him, and he walked me out of his room, down the stairs, and through the Lodging House to the streets.

"Burnin! I know you can hear me! Don't pretend you can't! Help me, damn it! Burnin!" I screamed when we passed him, but he just laughed and smiled. _Jeeze._

"Apologize." Spot commanded.

"No!" I said, crossing my arms in defiance.

"Okay." He shrugged, smirking (of course) and throw me. I was obviously not paying attention to where we had landed up, but now I realized it to be the docks. _Great. _

But not just at the docks, I was now in the water and soaking wet. The water rippled around me, and I was momentarily frozen to the docks; unwanted memories taking over.

_I was running. Faster and faster, flying over the things in my way. My stomach was slightly bulged and it caused some pain. I came to the docks; but I wouldn't let it stop me. I was unstoppable. I ran right off the edge of the water—forgetting everything that mattered; that meant anything._

How I had almost drowned. How I was in the same water that killed my child. I clung to the support beam of the dock, sobbing, breathing hard, and frightened.

Things were different know, I told myself.

"Spotette? You'se down there still? Are you alright?" Spot called.

"Yeah, no thanks to you!" I spat, crawling up the ladder.

"I haven't given you a hug yet, Spot!" I cried, and before Spot knew it, I had tackled him on the docks. He was laying on his back with some crazy girl laughing and soaking wet lying on him.

"Welcome home, Spotette." He said, all of a sudden serious, and grasped my face gently in his hands on my cheeks, and pulled me into a kiss.

"I didn't want to be anywhere else." I smiled back at him, and kissed him some more…

* * *

**Disclaimer: Do not own Newsies, and am almost completly honest that I probably never will):**

**Ahh well, you want what you can't have.**

**So, I'm not sure if this is the end, or just another beginning.**

**Hmm, what do you think?**

**I think you should REVIEW(:**

**And my new Favorite Quote is:**

**...**

**_Forget Spot Conlon, Fear his fans._**

**I love that, because its SOO true(:**


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10: HELLO JOSEPHINE,**

**AND A WHOLE LOT OF TROULE...**

**SAMANTHA'S POV…**

"Josephine?" I cried, extremely surprised to see the familiar older face.

"Hello, Samantha! I knew I could find you here!" She said, hugging me gently.

"Really, how?" I asked, cocking me head to side, reminding me of Spot.

"I was kidding, dear, I had nooo idea! But the world has a way of bringing two together again! Speaking of it, did you find Sean?" She asked sincerely, her gray colored hair pulled into a bun exactly like it had been when we had met on the train.

"Yes, thank you, I did." I said, blushing for no reason. Spot and Sean were getting lunch, and I had left a little earlier when I had seen Josephine walk by.

"Where is he? I must see him!" She cooed, linking arms in the way she always did.

"He's with his…Errr…" I began, but was interrupted by an ill-timed arrival of Spot and Sean.

"Spotette! You'se done?" Spot asked.

"Spot this is—"

"Josephine?" He asked, cocking his head to the side just the same as I had minutes ago.

"Liam? Heavens, it's been ages since I've seen your face, that's actually the reason I brought myself to Brooklyn!" I was now, completely and utterly confused.

"Huh?" I said.

"Josephine's me grandmudder; the only family member I'se ever kept in touch with…how do you guys know each udder?" He said, blue eyes laughing, probably at the shock in my face.

"On the train…?" I said, still confused.

Josephine was smiling and carrying on a conversation with Sean, who, determined to prove me wrong, talked 24/7.

"Liam- tell me, how do _you_ know Samantha?" I sort-of kind-of flinched at her using my name, but Spot only smiled-ish/smirked.

"She's me goil. She raised me kid." Spot explained, and I definitely visibly flinched this time. Josephine raised her eyebrow but instead of ratting me out on my 'Sean's-my-brother' lie, she just said:

"Ahh, Liam, I didn't know you were a fadder. Excuse me, faTHer." She coughed, and I was surprised; I hadn't known she was from New York.

Gulp. "You'se should really stop trying ta hide yer accent, be proud of it! And err…yeah, he ain't biologically related to Spotet—err…_Samantha_, but she raised him by herself for…a while."

Josephine ruffled Spots hair, "Of course I'm proud to be from this grand city, Liam, but it seems you're proud enough for the both of us, and famous enough too!" She smiled, so proud of Spot, and in that moment so was I. While I was gone in god-damned Texas, Spot had saved Manhattan, and the strike, as well as a war with Harlem and if they hadn't before, _everyone_ knew Spot Conlon's name.

"Come to dinner with me, all three of you, we have some catching up to do," Josephine prompted, eyeing Spot and then me.

"Deal," Spot said, and about to spit in his hand to shake (not the brightest habit to show for such a proper lady like Josephine), I shot my hand out instead, (completely saliva free) and smiled at the kind woman.

"Thanks, he means." I said, shooting a side way glance at Spot, who was dramatically rolling his eyes.

**LATER THAT NIGHT AFTER DINNER WITH JOSEPHINE…**

The dinner the four of us ate at was a very, _very_ fancy (and expensive) place. Spot choked and started coughing whenever anyone mentioned a price, which because Josephine was happily paying for the meal, us two girls found him very funny. So when he continued to do so even after he had gotten used to the prices (which didn't take long, he's not the King of Brooklyn for being a dope-head), I began to realize that he was doing this just to make us laugh, the attention hogging snob.

Josephine was staying at a friend's house, so we walked her home and then went on our way back to the Lodging House. Sean was asleep in Spot's arm, and I was holding his hand.

"You'se know it would be easier to carry da kid if you'se weren't holding me hand." Spot laughed and sighed.

I responded, "You survived a strike, a war, and hundreds of fights, but you have to complain about when a girl holds your hand?" I laughed.

"Yes, I as da King of Brooklyn, has dat right." He huffed.

"Of course you do." I said, rolling my eyes.

"And don't you'se forget it." The arrogant bastar—butthole. I have to remember that I am raising a kid, even though with Brooklyn's language I don't think it would matter.

Walking down the street-lamp lit roads, I realized that even though I hadn't had the most perfect childhood (by far), that I was happy where I stood today. I couldn't imagine myself without Spot or Sean, and thought, maybe someday; I'd have my own kid.

But until that day, I didn't want to be anywhere else. I love Spot, and Sean, and was positive that I always would, if the two of them allowed.

"What's Sean's whole name?" Spot asked out of the blue.

"Sean Patrick Conlon." I said, blushing slightly at the realization that Spot hadn't known that I had kept his last name.

"Why?" He asked.

"Sean—from your middle name, Patrick, I just love that name, and Conlon, well because." I said, shrugging.

"I'se like it," he admitted, making me smile, one that didn't last because he said, "And I want you and Sean to stay _inside_ the Lodgin' House foah a while."

"What? Why would that be!" I exclaimed.

"Just trust me."

"No! I will not go one more step until you tell me!"

"Well…"

**THIRD PERSON…**

With a shake of his brown-blonde hair and a sigh, Spot began to tell the pretty blonde what was really the problem, looking her straight in the eyes and saying, "Harlem and Brooklyn nevah ended da war, it just kinda settled down foah a while, but dey started passin' into our territory again, and der leadah, Chance, is crazy and powah hungry, as if all ya gotta do is take down Brooklyn, which will not happen. So, yeah, we'se still at war, and until dat's ovah, Brooklyn's a warzone."

* * *

**Yeah, I obviously decided to make that last chapter the beginning, rather than the end, so here we go! I actually got the idea for my next chapter, a sad chapter (dun dun dunnn..) from a Miley Cyrus song (surprisingly enough becasue, I'm not a hater, not really a fan) called Bottom of the Ocean, which I really really like. **

**So yeah, review please.**


	11. Chapter 11

**BE PREPARED: SPOT AND SPOTETTE…UMMM...WELL YOU KNOW…**

**CHAPTER 11: CHANCE'S.**

**NOT 'CHANCES'.**

**THIRD PERSON:**

Spot was trembling in his sleep, again. It made Spotette nervous, to see Spot so out of shape, as if he could see something bad coming. It wasn't even midnight, but because all of the sleep Spot had been missing, he fell asleep quickly.

"Spot, wake up." The girl whispered in her boyfriend's ear.

Spot groaned and turned over, still half asleep. The blonde girl next to him sensed something was going to happen, just as much as he did. And they both didn't like it.

Spotette decided it was now or never, and leaned over and kissed his chin all the way up to his temple, awakening Spot a little more.

"Hey," he said, his voice confused.

"Spot, I love you." Spotette said, arching herself towards him, ever so softly, and Spot, who finally caught her drift, was fully awake. Their child, Sean was staying in Manhattan with the girls, a precaution from the war, so they had the room to themselves.

So for the first time, the two tangled themselves together and 'made love'. And Spot's dreams were nightmare-free, as well as Spotette's.

**NEXT AFTERNOON…**

The couple was walking down the sidewalk, holding hands and thinking. Spot was involved in his war, and it was a lot of stress for the boy.

"Chance is planning something, it's too quiet." Spot said.

"Yeah, I guess," Spotette answered, thinking Spot may just be paranoid, but then again, she had a feeling of loneliness surrounding her, and trying to understand that, she pulled herself closer to Spot.

Spotette had never really met the infamous Chance, but Spot described him as a large boy, strong, but weak at the same time, with streaking grizzly-bear brown hair that was chin level and dark black eyes.

Spot and Spotette had been inseparable for a while now, and they were walking towards the Lodging House when a young Newsie named Hoist was seen by the two being taken away from four boys obviously from Harlem.

They had his arms and legs, carrying him to some unknown destination. Spot immediately took off, Spotette following, and pushed the guys out of his way, ordering Spotette to take Hoist back to the Lodging House.

She looked around, confused and slightly scared, and ran with Hoist quickly back to their home, and sprinted back to through Brooklyn, looking down all the roads for the fight that for sure had broken out.

Spotette found herself on the edge of the docks, and gasped at the sight. A small but strong sized boy with piercing blue eyes was being tossed into the Brooklyn waters by a two unknown boys. And Chance.

What she didn't see when she collapsed onto the ground unconsciously from being hit from behind, was how Spot hadn't even hit the water, that he was as safe and healthy as he could be with Harlem and Chance, that he hadn't really just been drowned.

In Chance's crazed mind, killing Spot would cause more suffering to the girl then Spot, because after he died he was, well, dead. So he had another plan, one that would put them both through a lot of suffering.

When Spotette finally came to, it only took seconds for everything to sink in, and she ran full speed to the end of the docks, looking for the love of her life. She began shedding her clothes, down to her cami and boy-shorts, and jumped in searching frantically for someone who wasn't down there.

She came up again, and again, and again, and went down again, and again, and again. By the time she had given up, she hauled her soaking wet and freezing body onto the docks, and sat there bawling.

Her hands covered her eyes, and she cried so hard her whole body literally shook. Her face was smeared with dirt that hadn't come off in the water. She just sat there, legs bent up against her, rocking back and forth, crying and shivering and shaking.

Meanwhile, from behind a row of shrubs, trees, and other plants, Chance snickered masochistically as he forced his capture to watch. He patted the head of a tied up Spot Conlon, who was watching broken-heartedly as his girl bawled over him. He hated Chance for making Spotette go through that, and making him watch her.

She would eventually go home, and tell everyone, Midtown, the Bronx, and Manhattan, that he was dead, and Harlem would win the war. Spot could have taken the four boys bugging Hoist, but from the shadows had come six more, a very uneven fight.

He felt sick. He wanted to run to Spotette and tell her he was okay; he wanted to die because he couldn't. He hated, _hated_ seeing her so extremely broken, and felt it was up to him to fix her.

When was he going to get free? No one would look for him if they thought he was dead.

What would Spotette do? What about Sean? _Would Chance make him watch her suffering? _What about his funeral?

Chance was messed up. Why would he want to hurt these two people so much?

Chance leaned over, and whispered in Spot's ear, "It's okay; you'll be seeing Spotette 24/7. You'll watch her break, cry, and whimper in pain over her _dead _partner. You'll go to your own funeral; you'll watch Harlem over come Brooklyn—but not right away."

Yards away, Spotette felt herself breaking. Cracking; drying up; being blown apart but compacted ever so tightly at the same time. She got herself so she was sitting cross-legged, her back hunched over her knees; still crying.

About half an hour later, she was still there, still crying, when Burnin found her. _Keep her safe, _Spot pleaded as he watched Burnin carry off the limp, broken body of the love of his life.

Watching Spotette crumple over him, he finally saw how much he loved her, and how much she loved him. He knew now more than he ever did; more than when he saw her again after two years in Trenton, more than when they were together on his bed last night.

Spot only let one, single tear run down his cheek. He wouldn't let Chance see him cry; even though he was sure he was dyeing inside. "You _should_ cry, boy. You're the one making her cry, remember? _You_ are the one causing her to crumble, weep. Not me…you."

His words stung Spot, because in a sick, twisted way, Chance was right.

* * *

**Could you guys even imagine the pain they must both be in? Because I can't. I'm writing it as best I can, but still.**

**I don't like this chapter; it makes me UBER sad.**

**And murderous towards Chance. MURDEROUS.**

**Well, it is my story..Hmmm.**

**REVIEW! I NEED YOU GUYS!**

**THIS IS A REALLY HARD TIME FOR ME *BLOWS NOSE IN TISSUE***


	12. Chapter 12

**BE PREPARED: SWEARING. BAD. BIG, BAD SWEARING. **

**CHAPTER 12: NOTES, RAZORS, AND ASSHOLES.**

**SAMANTHA...**

"Spotette—" Burnin began.

"It's Samantha." The girl said, staring at literally nothing in the air, but could very well hear the boy in the room. "Spotette is dead." She whispered, letting the tears fall down her cheeks, silent sobs.

It was three days since Spot had drowned. Burnin wrapped his skinny arms around the broken girl. She was no better than she was when he had found her on the docks, except now her sobs were silent, noiseless, rather than the screaming-pain filled shrieks and he wasn't sure which was better.

Samantha heaved, and Burnin hugged her closer, when he realized how extremely small she felt. He thought about a note he had received anonymously from someone. It had said: **What happened to her 'friend' is enough to make you want to puke, isn't it? But it's too bad, since his little girl **_**can't**_**. ~S**

Right now, Burnin had other things to worry about, rather than this 'S' and he asked, "Sp—Samantha, have you been eating?"

"Why should I get to eat? _He's_ never going to be able to eat again." She said crying even more now, snuggling her face into Burnin's bicep.

"He would want you to be healthy. Go eat." Burnin said sternly.

"How can you even say that?" She screamed, tears still falling and ran out of the room. She found herself in the washroom, her and Spot's private one.

All of his things were still there. She picked up his toothbrush, then his toothpaste, and his razor, and his soap. She realized that she hadn't been in love with a boy.

She had been in love with a man. A leader, a ruler, a man. Not the little boy who had saved her. The _man_ that had saved her. And she couldn't save him.

He was stronger than anyone who she had ever met. He was her everything. "I love you, Spot Conlon. And I'm so sorry…" She said out loud, spinning his razor over and over in her hands.

In a sudden decision, she placed the blades up against the underside of her wrist. Pushing down and running the blades against her skin, she left a cut across her arm, letting the blood drip away.

It was the only pain she could control. She had her heart ripped out to a point of no recovery.

As she started on a second cut, Burnin literally busted down the door of the locked bathroom, his eyes raging. "Samantha! What the hell are you doing?"

She dropped the razor and collapsed onto the floor, a bloody, starving and tear stained girl. "I hate Chance." Burnin said softly, "Just as much as you do."

He walked over and sat next to the heart-broken girl. "Bugs told me. The war, it was my fault. So that means I killed Spot." She said crying so hard her body shook in seizure like gasps.

Burnin shuddered then realized something, "We don't even have a Newsie in Brooklyn named Bugs. That's Harlem!"

"You guys weren't going to tell me, though? If I had never got sent off on that stupid orphan train then Spot wouldn't have looked for me in Harlem, where they were already on bad terms, then they wouldn't have gotten into a fight and set off a war and then kill Spot! It should have been me!" The girl screamed, punching the wall, causing her knuckles to bleed.

"It is in no way your fault, and we'd be at the same stage if you had been killed rather than Spot." Burnin explained.

"But you'd have a leader!" She gasped crying again, as if the tears would never stop. Burnin didn't even know it was possible to cry that much.

"Not much of one. He loved you as much as you love him, Sam. He'd be doing the same stupid things you are doing right now." Burnin said quietly, getting the girl to look at him with sparkling eyes. They weren't sparkling because she was happy or proud, but because she was still crying.

"I miss him, Burnin, so much. I would anything to see him. I want to _die_." She whispered, looking at her wrists.

"Well you can't. You have to help us run Brooklyn, remember you're not the only one who loved Spot, Sam; he was very much liked throughout all the boroughs. And they're all grieving to."

"I know that. But did they sleep in the same bed as him? Raise his child? Did he save them from drowning? Get through a miscarriage and escape the police?" Samantha asked, not trying to hog attention, just making a sad but true point.

"Oh, Samantha, you have to keep up. You have to be strong. You are Spot. He's in you more than anyone else, and we can't loose him twice." Burnin said, looking at the floor, and a few of his tears escaped.

"I will try, but I feel myself dieing inside more everyday. I am being caught on fire and drowning at the same time. I feel nothing, and everything. There's no explaining it. He was my life. And I plan on keeping it that way, fuck the 'no earthly attachments'." Samantha said, crying even more.

"It's time for the funeral." Burnin whispered, only to make Spotette scream and collapse over yelling:

"He's not dead! There is no funeral! This is some fucked up joke!" She pounded her hands on the floor like some three year old. Then after a while, she stopped, and whispered to the now-empty bathroom. "God, why did you take everything from me? My mother, my father, and my best friend and lover? What did I do?"

She stood up after a while and looked at herself in the mirror. The funeral would be for final closure, so why not make the one last memory of Samantha be good ones?

She cleaned the cuts on her hands, washed the dirt off herself, took a shower, and dried her hair. She put it in a half-up, half-down do, and applied more than enough makeup.

She didn't know what to wear though, when an idea struck her. She walked into her and Spot's bedroom and took out some of his clothes. She wore her pants, but his suspenders, hat, and shirt.

Sam looked into the mirror and began crying again, and reaching for the razor again, Burnin stuck his head in saying, "Let's go Sam."

She wiped away the tears, un-smudged the makeup (not the best idea for a funeral) and knew that she was going cry more than she has ever cried in her life the next, well, forever. But she would live. That would mean she would feel so broken sometimes she wouldn't think straight, and sometimes she may have no way of expressing the lose she felt.

Everyone knew a part of Samantha Rose Brown had died with Spot. But if Spot was to come back, would the dead Samantha come back too?

* * *

**BURNIN...**

Burnin had just remembered the note he had received earlier: **What happened to her 'friend' is enough to make you want to puke, isn't it? But it's too bad, since his little girl **_**can't**_**. ~S**

"Sp—Samantha, have you been eating?"

"Why should I get to eat? _He's_ never going to be able to eat again." She said crying even more now, snuggling her face into Burnin's bicep.

"He would want you to be healthy. Go eat." Burnin said sternly.

"How can you even say that?" She screamed, tears still falling and ran out of the room. Burnin shook his head, replying to her question thinking, _because you need to stay healthy._

Burnin walked down the stairs, into the living room and was about to play poker with some of his friends when a person dressed in all black walked by the window.

Burnin sauntered over to the window, noticing a note taped to it. It said: **I'm starting to think that Samantha is in just as much pain as Spot is. The hurt is literally cutttinnngg into her. ~S**

He took off running to find Spotette and when he did, his heart sank. It was true; she was releasing her pain in a very unsafe, unhealthy way.

Burnin then realized how much Spot effected everyone. And how he has no idea how he'd get through everything without him.

* * *

**SPOT...**

From outsides the second story window, Spot sat, tied and gagged, trying to pry his eyes away from the sight inside. Change laughed at the girl inside; the girl that needed Spot's help so.

Spot cringed as the girl, who had been crying for three days straight now, picked up all of his old things. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she held his old razor.

Spot almost exploded when the girl that he loved with more than his life plunged the razor into her wrist. "She really liked you, didn't she?"

Spot felt his face turning red with hate. How he wanted to join Samantha (he had watched her give up her nickname; proclaiming it, too, dead), make everything better.

The blue eyed captive knew that Samantha was capable of killing herself, but over him? Spot Conlon? It didn't make since to him. He knew that he loved her but it was still crazy to the king that she loved him so much.

He hated so much to see her in pain. She was arched over her hand, sinking it in deeper, getting ready to do it again when Burnin literally busted down the door.

Spot smiled sadly, _good ole Burnin. _He screamed, "Samantha! What the hell are you doing?"

Spotette had a habit of whispering, as if she was scared of her own voice. Spot couldn't get it through his head that he was doing this for him.

After a while of watching the two soundlessly talk, Samantha stood up, and talked with anger until she ended up screaming on part of her speech.

"He was my life. And I plan on keeping it that way, fuck the 'no earthly attachments'." She started crying even more with the words. _Noo! Spotette!_ Spot cringed, _Forget about me! I'm fine! Pretend I was never there! Forget me, be healthy! Don't hurt yourself! Just let me go, you arrogant girl!_

"Suffering, Spottie?" Chance asked. _More than you will ever imagine you heartless asshole. _Spot glared.

It seems as if Sam finally got a hold of herself, and prepared herself for something. She put on his clothes. _What? What's going on?_

Spot looked confused, and Chance said finally let it out slowly. "Your funeral…ha ha ha…"

* * *

**I'm not sure if you guys thought this, but I sure did, that this chapter is a FILLER. Sorry, it's confusing. But it shows the bonding with Burnin and Samantha, and starts little Sammy on her phase.**

**You'll just have to see what that phase is, shall we? **

**And until then...REVIEW!**


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13: ONE MORE DAY.**

**TODAY IS NOW YESTERDAY AND TOMORROW IS THE PAST.**

"Samantha, you can't just hide in your room everyday! He's dead! He's not coming back!" Hoist screamed at Sam. He wasn't trying to be mean, but he didn't like seeing the changes she had been making. The Spotette he had known and loved was, indeed, dead. Or at least it seemed that way to him.

"Hoist? Be nice!" Burnin screamed.

"Sam? Sammy? Are you listening? Burnin's being mauled by bears! Nope, she's definitely not with us." Hoist said.

"Leave her be." Burnin ordered and Hoist shook his head.

"You're only letting her slide and slip away." He growled angrily. Hoist had grown into a strong, older newsie. Bumblets barely even recognized his little brother.

"I know…" Burnin said, shaking his red hair.

It had been two days since the funeral; five since Spot 'died'. And Samantha was literally slipping. At the funeral, she was silent, and absolutely still. She cried, silently, but more and more tears leaked out. She placed a single rose by the picture of Spot, which only made her sob more. It was black and white, and he stood there, holding his cane, with his chin held a little two high and a smirk on his face. Samantha crumbled, then.

She had tried starving herself, cutting herself, and her latest scheme was about to take place.

Samantha was in her room, crying no doubt, when a voice screamed from out the window, "Spotette I'm HERE!" Followed by a thump.

The familiar voice she heard sent her into a frenzy, a pain filled frenzy. "I'm going crazy. I'M GOING CRAZY!" She screamed.

She took off running down the streets, and the voice kept echoing in her head, and she only shouted louder to try and drown it out, "I'm crazy, god! Help me! I'm crazy!"

Of course, because the normally pretty girl with black tired marks under eyes was crying and running and screaming, people actually thought she was crazy.

She found herself at the docks, and she realized it was the end of the day. She fell to her knees when the sun dipped beneath the water; the memories too painful to remember.

She wanted to remember, but she wanted to forget.

Samantha couldn't take it any more; the pushing but being pulled, the burning and the drowning, the nothing and everything. The feelings were so opposite and so together, she couldn't take it.

She found herself standing on the edge of the dock. Her body said stay, her heart said jump. That last thought, sent her diving off the edge, gracefully, but determined.

Sam felt her lungs pray for air, but she wouldn't allow it. Splotches began to appear and she felt the sadistic feeling of content.

A hand pulled her forcefully out of the water, shortly reminding her of the last time she was here, and Spot saved her.

"Just cause your little lover boy ain't here to save ya, doesn't mean I'm going to let you get out of my plan that easy!" Samantha opened her eyes and found herself on the docks, staring up into Chance's fierce eyes.

"Get off me! You killed Spot, you monster!" She said, punching him in the nose, letting few tears slip.

"I didn't kill Spot, he ain't even dead! He's right over there, see him?" He said, pointing to a tied up Spot. Sam gasped, and started shaking.

"I'll tell everyone, and they'll kill you…" Sam growled.

"Yes, they'll definitely believe the girl who tried killing herself three times, and ran down the streets screaming 'I'm crazy!' That makes since." Chance laughed.

"They will, they have too…" She said, just a whisper, then remembering Spot, she took off running, only to be grabbed around the waist and pushed to the ground.

Samantha skinned her right arm, leg, and that side of her face. Spot growled from his seat, and Chance sent him a glare.

"No, now, little girl, you can't see you little lover! He's still mine!" And with that Chance punched Sam so hard she collapsed to the ground, totally unconscious.

Burnin reached into his pocket, looking for money, but instead pulled out another note. It read: **She's gone crazy. Just ask her. Oh, and I think she's seeing things…but maybe you trust her too much. Keep a hawk-like eye on her, just like me…. ~S**

He flinched, what is this supposed to mean? He had to find Spotette fast. But where? He looked out for more clues, when someone in black walked by the Lodging House window, again, and wrote amazingly fast with a marker: **Where it began, her savior, her lover. ~S **and the person was already gone.

After about a minute of thinking, 'What the hell does that mean?' Burnin realized that he should be at the docks.

He ran there, his long skinny legs bounding him very dear-like, to say the least. He found Samantha, soaking wet, laying in a heap on the docks. A note was attached to her shirt, and it said: **Don't believe the bitch. Attention. ~S**

"Sam, wake up…" He got her sitting upright, and finally her eyes fluttered open. For a few seconds they were squinted, as if trying to see better, but then the popped. Not like, exploded, eww no, but they shot open to the size of disks.

"Chance has Spot! He's not dead! Burnin, he's not dead!" She said, crying happy tears for a change, and she hugged him.

"Really? Because you're the one who said he was dead, now you're the one saying he's alive. That doesn't really cross over well." Burnin said, remembering the notes.

"Whaaaa? You-you don't be-believe me?" She said, mad and disbelieving at the same time.

"No, it's not really that—" Burnin was interrupted.

"Go to hell! Chance said you wouldn't listen!" Pushing herself up and away from her friend.

"Wait, you talked to Chance?"

"He pulled me out of the water, thinking I was trying to kill myself—which I was not! I was swimming! And he said 'you can't kill yourself that easy, I still want you to suffer' and then I told him I would tell everyone and he said I was crazy and they wouldn't believe. He was so sure of it, too!" Sam exclaimed, and started to walk away, obviously furious.

But, Burnin, soaking everything up still, didn't follow her, and that was going to cost them both a lot.

* * *

**MmmKayy, so what did you think? Hi, I'm Bren, and I can't read minds. So yeah, REVIEW! Please?**

**I, personally like Burnin a lot, and actually named resembled him after a boy in my classes.**

**Super tall and EXTREMELY skinny, straight-covers the ear-long hair that he flicks out of his eyes?**

**Yeah, you kow the type. Jocks, funny because in their mind they're the funniest guy alive?**

**Yeah, you try having a locker by him all year long and see how messed up you turn out. Haha, you rock L.T!**


	14. Chapter 14

.

**CHAPTER 14: ****Miongháire a choimeád. Lá amháin Feicfidh mé tú isteach inár píosa foirfe****.**

_We break and then we go  
and we try, we try and stay... hopeful  
but seems the more we learn the less we know_

If you saw Samantha Rose Parker from a distance, you'd shutter.

You'd think, oh what a perfect girl. What in heaven's name is she doing in those clothes?

Her blonde curls blowing in the wind, covering her perfect cheek bones and face structure. Her eyes were large saucers that reflected light, sunshine and anything good in life.

_Our secrets have been leaked  
into these wild streets  
and the ears landing their sympathies_

Then, when the perfect girl approached you, maybe trying to sell you a paper, you'd look more closely at her. Her face was smudged with dirt and oil, her hands stained with ink. Her ringlets were actually messy, slightly dirty, and looked big compared to the small girl.

She must not have found what she had been looking for, because she then quickly turned around on her heel and on you quietly gasped. Down the back of her arms and legs were scars, red and brown and scabbing, probably hiding some childhood mystery. As if she could hear your thoughts she looked back over her small shoulder, glaring coldly.

Her large eyes were rimmed with red and water, and dark bags glared up at you, filled with hate, even though you've never seen this girl before, because if you had, you would have definitely remembered her.

_If I stayed, would you stay with me?  
No escape plan, no victims theory  
just lovers, just lovers without a history_

Samantha Rose had been a flower in a field of grass with the Newsies, but as winter came in their field, they all shriveled up and died for the season; all looking the same.

And 'winter' for these Newsies was the death of their leader, Spot Conlon.

….

Samantha stood on the top floor's roof of the Brooklyn Lodging House, balancing on the very edge. One foot went exactly in front of the other one. _Step, step._

Her arms were straight out to her sides, balancing her as she took more steps forward. _Step, step._

She finally stopped walking, and just turned her body to be facing off the roof. Who would care if she jumped? No one believed he was alive. But she knew, and she couldn't do anything about it.

Maybe she _was_ crazy. But she refused to think that; that would mean Chance would win.

Chance. She hated the name. She hated the word.

But she forgot about Chance for a while, and thought about Sean. He had been staying in Manhattan. Samantha had gone over to visit him only once, but it was terribly hard for her; having to look into her dead lovers eyes.

She immediately took a liking to the girls there, especially Flick. But Samantha wasn't in the mood for making friends.

And now, balancing on the top of the three story high building, she thought that now that Sean had a good place to stay, she wouldn't need to stick around to care for Spot's baby.

Burnin was probably still sitting on those stupid docks, or maybe gone off to gossip about how crazy she was. Samantha growled at the thought.

No one believed her. And that what hurt almost the most. All she wanted in life was to be happy, and as soon as she had found it, some crazy frick had to come and steal it all away.

Sam didn't want to be happy anymore, it was always ruined. Burnin, the last person in the world she loved (as a brother) didn't even trust her. Now she really couldn't stop the tears from falling, and sat down, feet dangling over the edge.

Burnin wasn't here to stop her again. Sammy was sure Chance was watching somewhere, the creepy stalker. She wondered if she killed herself Spot could come back out of Chance's grip.

_If I fall to little pieces  
you can fall to little pieces  
we can mingle  
we can mingle  
our debris_

She wasn't sure if anything made since anymore. Why was some force keeping her alive when all she wanted to do was give up? She laughed at herself when she thought that.

Spotette never would have given up anything. But Spotette was only herself with Spot, because without him, she would only be 'Ette'. And that sounds really stupid.

The wind had picked up, and it blew Sam's hair crazy in all directions and as she tried to keep it out of her greasy face, flailing her arms around, she could have sworn she heard someone laugh.

_Chance….._she thought; giving up on trying to control her hair. Wow, that's the second thing I've given up on today, she scolded herself.

The wind gusting against her, blowing her closer to jumping off the edge. She stood, facing out over the streets and shops of Brooklyn. Even from the distance, Samantha Rose could so easily pick out a yellow flower poking itself up between some cobblestone cracks. Only Brooklyn could make it hard for a flower to even survive.

Brooklyn made everything hard, made everything tough. Samantha shook her head, clearing her thoughts considerably, but still wondered. Brooklyn: a borough in New York known for its harsh, tough, mean environments where only those at the top can survive.

Just then she watched two grown men, straggly and ugly and dirty walk past a woman and her daughter. The girl was probably thirteen, with plain brown hair that fell straight down her back, and the mother too shared that trait.

The men walked past, but instead of continuing they turned and began following the woman. The mother, carrying a sack of groceries, looked back at hearing the men, and quickened her pace. The daughter, tried following as the men walked considerably faster also, but tripped over her feet, being new to heels, and fell flat onto her face.

The mother gasped and walked back towards her, but before she could rejoin her daughter, the men had reached her, and said something to the mother, causing her to cry and turn away, almost running.

"What the hell! Don't just leave her with them! It's Brooklyn you're in lady!" Samantha screamed, surprising herself, because she could barely even whisper lately.

The men were about to drag the girl behind a building, the daughter fighting and flailing as she went. The men snickered.

Samantha had the urge to save her, so she did. She said, "Okay Spot, please give me your cat-like reflexes!" before flinging herself off the Lodging House roof, but for a whole new reason than she had planned to.

She wasn't intent on death now, but rescue. She felt like she was falling for ages before her feet felt ground underneath them, and bending her knees she landed gracefully. Samantha Rose couldn't help but smile, for the first time in days.

She then sprinted towards the building. Running around the corner, she saw one of the men punch the girl in the stomach.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sam screamed, charging at the guy punching the daughter, and kicking right in the crotch, causing him to collapse over in pain.

"Girls ain't supposed ta fight, bitch, it's not poity." The other guy said, holding the girl. But she seemed smart, because sensing the diversion; she elbowed him in the gut, and took off sprinting behind Samantha.

Sam took that as a time to act, and jumping over the fallen scum bag, she landed, bending her legs and flung one of them out, hitting the man behind his knees, and they gave out. He fell to the ground where Sam kept kicking him over and over.

The girl stood watching in awe until she thought it was enough, "I think that's good, Killer."

Sam turned around, cocking her head to the side, "huh?"

"The guy, I think you've kicked him enough."

"Aw, yes." She said, joining the girl.

"I'm Vesper Jeans. And thanks for helping me."

"I'm Samantha Brown, and you're welcome. Why'd you're mom leave you?" Sam said, walking back onto the street with Vesper.

"Doris? She's not my mother, she's a maid. She walks me everywhere. She couldn't be happier if I never came back." Vesper said, shaking her head.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." Sam said.

"Where am I supposed to go?" She said, looking up into the blond girl's eyes with her own mud-brown eyes.

"You could come back to the Lodging House with me." Sam shrugged, kicking a rock.

"A newsboy house? Seriously?" Vesper half smiled, cocking her head.

"Seriously…" Sam said, rolling her eyes.

"I'd love to." Vesper said, shocking the older girl.

On the walk back, Samantha thought about everything that had just happened. She liked Vesper, she slightly reminded Sam of herself. But what really mattered, she didn't feel the drowning amount of pain she normally did for Spot. She felt a flame of determination to prove to Burnin that he was still alive.

She had the determination to find happiness, Spot, and a good life. And she didn't plan on giving up.

"Thanks, Vesper."

"For what?" The clueless girl said.

"Everything, really; well, I have a lot to tell you, and if you still like me and the Lodging House, you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Great." Vesper said, smiling up bravely and batting her eyelashes, "where are all the boys?"

"Of course," Sam laughed, actually laughed.

* * *

**Alright, sorry that took so long to get out): but what do you think? REVIEW?**

**I love Vesper, personally. I see her as this super cute boy-crazy teenage girl.**

**Do you?**

**Look up the character title, translate it from Irish to English and see if you think it fits the story.**

**The song in _italics _is Little Pieces by the Parlour Steps.**


	15. Chapter 15

.

**CHAPTER 15: AND WHEN IT'S HOTBLACK, **

**DON'T GO BACK.**

_Took a big trip  
With your old band  
To your homeland  
For the wrong man_

Samantha Rose had just finished Vesper the Lodging House, not to mention the boys in it. The one boy that stood out to Vesper was Hoist, the tough fourteen year old birdie.

Sam eventually left the boy crazed girl in upstairs and unused (until now) newsgirl room. Samantha still slept in her and Spot's room. After she finished freshening up, she was walking out of their shared room when someone strongly grabbed her wrist.

Her first reaction was to turn around and punch the person right in the gut, which is what she did. She almost laughed when she turned to see Burnin clutching his gut, and sputtering cuss words.

Then Sam remembered how he hadn't believed her at the docks earlier, and that caused her to stumble backwards, like a hit in the chest, as Spot entered her mind again. Vesper had kept her busy, but now with Burnin and only herself, he swarmed all around her, causing her to become dizzy.

_Making big plans  
For your own sake  
Hope they don't bend  
Hope they don't break_

Burnin finished gawking in pain, and stammered out a loud, "What the hell was that for?"

Samantha mentally flinched, growled and walked back into her room. Burnin followed, knocking on the door so hard she thought it might break down.

"Holy puberty," Sam muttered as she opened the door, remembering when Burnin was a small-muscled little boy.

"We need to talk." Burnin said simply.

"And I need a pony that can fly. Get lost."

"Ha, no seriously. What you were saying, about Spot, was it really true, Sam?"

"Because I'm the kind of person who would lie about that…." Sam said sarcastically, feeling emptiness in her heart as Spot was mentioned.

Burnin half-smiled, "You're being sarcastic. Nice to see some Spotette still there." When he had realized what he said it was too late, she had slammed the door in his face again.

"She's dead. He's dead…" Sam whispered, leaning her back against the inside of the door and sliding down it. Her hands found her face, and they held her head up.

"Sam! I didn't mean it like that! Please! I'm sending birds to find Chance! Spot will be safe, it's okay!" He screamed through the door.

_Took a tip from a rodeo show  
Get a_ _grip or you're gonna get thrown  
Take your aim when you take a shot  
For the man under you will take everything you got_

Samantha Rose fell asleep that night curled up against the wooden door of Spot's room, as if protecting herself from everything else. She didn't answer when Burnin' came, or when Hoist came, or even when Vesper came to the door.

Burnin, on the other hand, had given up trying to reach the blond girl, and was off searching for Chance and Spot, thinking about the mysterious letters he kept getting. This person, ~S, had told him when Sam tried starving herself, cutting herself, drowning herself, and one that said she was going to jump off the Lodging House, but instead found her with Vesper.

Another note applied that this ~S person was watching Sam. And that's when it clicked. Whoever ~S was, was indeed watching Samantha. So wherever Sam was, so was ~S.

Burnin, who was out by the docks, sprinted back to the Lodging House in record time; finally gaining the speed that his long legs brought him. He flew up the stairs and slammed down on Sam's door.

"Sam, I need to stay with you today!"

No answer.

"Dammit Sam…" He muttered under his breath.

Burnin thought of where someone who was watching Sam would hide. In her room? Under her bed? Outside her window?

He thought that was most likely, that he or she or whoever was probably still outside the window. Burnin climbed up to the next floor, an unused level of the building, mostly storages with boxes and boxes of things all the boys have found. There were a couple boxes with everyone's name on them, and a whole pile of like, twelve boxes that all said _**Spot**_ on them.

_Take the pills that they give you mornings  
Spit them out when they aren't looking  
Keep a smile but you burn it hot  
It's a mad, mad, world_

Burnin couldn't remember when they had last put anything in these boxes, but he could tell it had been years. Everything had been covered with dust and drained of color from the uneven amount of sunshine coming from the five or so windows scattered around.

He walked over to Spot's pile of things, and pulled out one his boxes. _Hmm…_he thought. He slowly opened it, momentarily being distracted from the conflict at hand. He pulled out a blanket; a small, faded yellow piece of cloth really.

Next out came a knife, small and slightly rusted from being forgotten, with the words, '_like the fairytales….'_ carved into the handle. Burnin wondered what that had meant.

Sticking his hand into the box again, he pulled out a necklace. Burnin froze. It looked like it could have been made of solid gold; a small chain with a golden heart locket with little dusted diamonds on the outside of it.

Burnin tried pulling it open, but it was stuck. Burnin told himself that he would have to ask Spot, then remembered that he was supposed to be looking for him.

He put everything away, and rushed over to the window, before agilely swinging himself outside. His hand held onto the window sill and his feet swung uncontrollably. He inched his way over unit he finally reached the small balcony.

Burnin looked over the buildings and other things scattered on the street, things that were in sight of Sam's room but everything was eerily silent and quiet. _Maybe I shouldn't have believed her…_he thought before catching himself. He did trust her. He did trust Sam.

After a while of just standing up there watching Brooklyn, Vesper showed up at the same window Burnin had climbed out of, and started speaking to him.

"I guess maybe I should have learned more about Sam before following her home…" Vesper said softly, as if embarrassed.

"What do you mean?" Burnin asked, still staring forward.

"She's so…broken, I guess."

"You don't know the half of it…" Burnin mumbled.

"Well then why don't you tell me all of it?" Vesper said, looking at the red-head.

"Well…the first thing you need to know about Sam is Spot." Burnin said.

"What? That doesn't make since." Vesper said, her forehead crinkling.

"Oh, but it does. Have you ever heard of Spot Conlon?" Burnin semi-smiled; of course she did.

"Yeah…soo?" the young girl said, not yet putting the pieces together.

"What do you know about him?" Burnin continued, ignoring her question.

Vesper sighed, and said, "Umm…isn't he like, the King of you Newsboys?" He nodded. "And he's not super tall." Burnin nodded, looking down at his super tall body. "And the entire girl population would like die for him because he's extremely attractive."

Burnin rolled his eyes. Yes, everyone loved Spot Conlon.

"Oh, and he saved the Manhattan Newsboys when they went on strike." Vesper said, smiling proudly that she could remember that much about him.

"Yeah, but no one can see Spot with Sam, or Sam without Spot. It's impossible." Vesper looked confused, but Burnin had to take a minute to clear his head. It hurt talking about his 'dead' friend, because as of right now, he had no proof he was alive. And they had been best friends.

"Those two were lovers, were best friends, and were inseparable. They were equally stubborn, a bit annoying, a lot cocky, fairly egocentric, and completely loyal; not to mention super tough. But a while ago, Sam accidentally…left. And Spot was all of those things; but he only put half of himself into it. He was also sad, depressed, mean and cold. But when Sam came back, BAM he was fixed." Burnin explained.

"Question: how does someone accidentally leave?" Vesper countered.

"Not sure, but if they keep interrupting they can accidentally get kicked out of my sight." Vesper's eyes widened, and both people laughed.

"Now, as I was saying, Spot's umm…dead."

"WHAT?" Vesper screamed.

"Shhh! Are you trying to wake the whole neighborhood?" Burnin hissed, eyes darting down the Lodging House, making sure no one had noticed them.

"SPOT'S DEAD?" She repeated.

"Kinda…" Burnin said ackwardly.

"How can you be 'kinda dead'?" She said, still screaming.

Burnin then went into an explanation about the war with Harlem, and how Chance supposedly still has Spot, and all that, until the teenage girl was caught up fairly well.

"Sam just needs a friend." Vesper said, coming to her own conclusion.

"She needs Spot. And only Spot, the arrogant girl." Burnin laughed.

"They're really in love aren't they?" Vesper whispered.

Burnin shut his eyes, and exhaled loudly, feeling pain for both Spot and Sam. "Vesper, if this isn't love, than I'm not sure what is…"

* * *

**DISCALIMER: I DO NOT OWN NEWSIES...DARN YOU DISNEY(:**

**~Walks into the room with cupcakes and brownies~ Hey, everyone want some delicious sweets? Ha, Ha...ughh I made you sweets! Don't kill me!**

**Okay, so I know this chappie was totally not worth the like, FOREVER long wait.**

**How about you try to keep up with Soccer and Math Homework people two years older than you should be taking?**

**Anywho, I've seen a drop in reviews): Do you not like it?**

_**Please, review. If I get, lets say seven new reviews, I will update once every two days with more than 1000 words. Promise.**_

**Soo review(:**

**And the song in there is Hotblack by Oceanship**


	16. Chapter 16

.

**CHAPTER 16: OF EVERY ROSE...**

_**We're still watching…. ~S **_Burnin sighed, thinking 'not again.' Vesper looked up at him expectantly, waiting to be told what he was holding.

"It's nothing…" He said, trying to lie.

Vesper cocked her head to the side, but nodded.

The note had said 'we're' as in, more than one person. Just what Burnin needed.

He was back to full-time watching Sam, who went back into full-blown depression stage, and teaching Vesper Newsie things, all the while trying to keep his promise to find the 'living' Spot, even though he did someday expect to just find his body somewhere. He would never admit it to anyone though, especially Sam, who kept repeated over and over and over again, 'but...bu-butt h-he's out-t there..!"

Everyone would nod their heads and fake-smile. Because, what else would you do?

_We both lie silently still  
In the dead of the night  
Although we both lie close together  
We feel miles apart inside_

It had been a month and three days now. Since Spot had been home. Had seen anyone.

He had been eating only very little, and hadn't fully moved in those many days since he had been taken by Chance.

Spot's eyes were surrounded by black and blue bruises, as well as most other parts of his sore body. He didn't speak. He didn't react. That's why he was so beat up, it made Chance so mad that he didn't fight back.

Chance still forced him to watch Sam slowly destroy herself, even under Burnin's care.

Spot couldn't look away, couldn't stand up to Chance for fear of Sam's wellbeing. He couldn't keep his eyes on her too long either, the fact that Spot was causing her this pain, was true betrayal in his mind.

Burnin too, it was affecting him. He was stressed. And hurting inside.

And Chance enjoyed watching the hurt streak through all of the Newsies…

_Was it something I said or something I did  
Did my words not come out right  
Though I tried not to hurt you  
Though I tried  
But I guess that's why they say:_

Vesper was worried about Sam. She owed her for saving her from that man, and taking her in to the Newsies, but Sam was a wreck. _Just let Burnin deal with her._ That was Vesper's way of helping.

Vesper had been nicknamed 'Fawn' for her large brown eyes and matching straight hair.

She was a flirt, flicking the hair from her face, and smiling slyly at the different boys who inhabited the Lodging House, especially Burnin. But why did he care so much about Samantha? Just tell her the boys dead and move on. That was Vesper's opinion.

Because, as long as Fawn stayed in the Lodging House, the less of Vesper stood around. Fawn was vicious, tough, manipulative, rather than the nice, quiet, shy girl Vesper had been.

But living in the Lodging House may change a person, and Fawn was living proof.

_Every rose has its thorn  
Just like every night has its dawn  
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song  
Every rose has its thorn_

Burnin was losing sleep. The stress of finding Spot, Sam's nightmares and screams, Fawn's occasional fights, and Hoist's growing meanness towards everyone and everything.

He kept getting notes, and notes, and notes. Why? He couldn't take it. He was going crazy from the inside out. He wanted Spot to come back; he wanted Sam to be normal again, and more times than not he wanted Fawn to go back to being nice.

And that night laying in his cot/bed with one single white/brown sheet on a small tiny pillow, he knew how to stop it all.

He walked into Sam's room, to find her hunched over pretending to sleep. Burnin walked over, and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm going to find your Spot, Sam, and when I do, you have to promise to go back to the normal Spotette. Deal?"

Sam had flinched at the mention of her old nickname and Spot, but nodded distantly as if trying to remember the old Spotette.

"But…I don't remember her…" She said, looking down, her blond curls matted down and greasy.

"You don't remember yourself?" Burnin said, utterly confused.

"No, I remember myself, just not…how I was…_before…"_ The last word was almost inaudible, Sam whispering so quietly.

"Then we'll help you remember. I promise." The red head told her. And she finally fell into a real sleep…but she wasn't even safe from Spot in her dreams…because, like their silent promise, he would always be with her, even if she wasn't aware of it.

_Though it's been a while now  
I can still feel so much pain  
Like a knife that cuts you the wound heals  
But the scar, that scar will remain…._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: DON'T OWN NEWSIES..BUT YOU KNEW THAT..**

**I am so sorry for not Updating in like Two weeks!**

**And I'm getting back into the Habit of frequently Typing..**

**AND STILL, I HAVE BARELY ANY REVIEWS!**

**Where are you guys? **

**COME ON, REVIEW PLEASSEE!**


	17. Chapter 17

.

**CHAPTER 17: THE REOPENING...**

Burnin smirked. His hand moved up to the glass and pinched a piece of paper between his fingers. It stuck to the glass. _What da heck is he doin'? _Chance thought.

Burnin looked around, flicked his hair out of his eyes, and took off running. His legs, longer than most of his body, started folding underneath the skinny boy, and he fell in a heap of limbs to the ground. He laughed and took off running again.

Chance flung himself down from the spot he was hiding on top of, and looked at the window Burnin had just been at. _**Come and get me. I dare you. ~B.S **_

"Bull Shit," Chance murmured under his breath. It was signed BS. Chance though maybe it was Burnin's initials, if only he had known his last named hadn't started with a S.

Chance growled; hating not being in control. He returned to his position with a depressed Spot, and tugged him around with him, trying to follow the long-legged red-head.

But Chance didn't know he was falling right into Burnin's trap…

For the past month or so, Harlem had been leaderless, and blamed Brooklyn for their missing man, which only made everything harder for Brooklyn. But Spot had trained Burnin as a leader well, but Chance on the other hand, had thought it made it impossible to be replaced if he didn't have a second, or a leader-in-training, so Harlem was up a creek without a paddle.

That was a big part of Burnin's plan and he readied his spies and sling-shooters, and left Fawn with Sam, and headed to Harlem with Manhattan too. Not everyone knew why, but they weren't going to try to ask why.

The Newsie Army filed into Harlem's Lodging House and unexpectedly they tried to fight back, with no success, and they soon surrendered. Brooklyn gained control of Harlem, the opposite of Chance's plan.

What the Brooklyn/Manhattan Newsies didn't expect was that the bulls would show up. And take Harlem's side.

And all hell broke loose.

Even though Harlem was ordered to stay out of the riot, they continued to try to fight. It even looked like Harlem and the Cops might have won, if the Lodging House door hadn't had opened and a little blond girl named Samantha had stepped in.

She screamed one high pitched note and the room slowly quieted. "Want to know what's been going on?" She asked, strongly.

The Newsies from all three boroughs shook their head in agreement.

"Then get the Bulls out." They Police were slowly beaten out and the room again became silent, waiting.

"Your leader, Chance, has done some bad things." Sam spoke again, causing the Harlem Newsies to get angry, shouting out that Brooklyn wasn't perfect either.

"Shut up! Now, you see, we don't have him. You may have already heard that our leader, Spot had died. If you hadn't…why the fuck are you a Newsie? Obviously you aren't around Newspapers. Any who…" she continued.

Sam took a deep breathe and plunged into the story she had repeated many times in her head, about everything that had happened.

"What are you doing, Sam?" Burnin asked, worried why she was here.

She clenched her fists, glared down on him and spoke slowly, "I. Am. Spotette."

* * *

**Okay, So I haven't Updated in Literally Months... & What's Worse is That I Don't Have an Excuse.. **

**Maybe It's Because I don't Recieve Enough Reviews):**

**I'm Sorry This One's So Short, I have To Get in The Flow Of Things..**

**REVIEW!**


	18. Chapter 18

.

**CHAPTER 18: ONLY KING.**

"What da hell is dat goil doin'? Get her off outta da spotlight!"

"Hello, Chance. Nice to see you." Sam spoke calmly; harshly. She hopped down from the table she had been standing on in a very Spot-jumping-down-from-the-docks-like manner.

Burnin was already on top of the stupid Newsie leader. "We'll kill him if you don't find Spot. NOW." Burnin's red hair matched his flaming eyes.

"Don't listen to da little goil, she's stupid and crazy." Chance sputtered from under Burnin's tall frame.

"I'm neither, frankly. I never was. I was lost, yes, and I was in love. And you took that from me you son of a—"

"Dat's someting you don't got, Chance. You don't got love, friends, true living followers. You rule like King. And I'm da only King round here."

* * *

So here's what happened:

Chance saw his borough fall, and he wasn't happy. He dragged Spot down miles of roads, and came to the Harlem Boarding House in time to hear the end of Spotette's speech.

Making himself noticed, he spoke.

Spotette, a girl I have never loved more, stood calm in front of him. If you had known her like I had, you could see that through her fierceness, she was hurt, angry, and tired.

Burnin attacked Chance with lightning like reflexes, and I nodded, proud. Even doing that hurt.

It was Hoist who let me go. He looked aged. Black circled stood out like coal under his dark eyes. A tear slipped from one when he found me. Then another, and another…

Burnin commanded everyone like a real leader. I stood up. It felt so different than sitting.

I smirked. And stood up.

Spotette kept talking, almost returning to her old self.

I interrupted her. Her eyes like saucers, she whispered. "I knew it."

I knew she knew it. I knew it.

"Dat's right boys. I'm back. And Harlem, you got some hell comin' at cha. Fast. Now where da hell is my cane?"

* * *

**JUST LETTING YOU ALL KNOW I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN! SO SOOOOOOOOOO SO SORRY. I HAVE HAD NO TIME WHATSOEVER. **

**THIS IS JUST A SNIP-IT.**

**I am not Done with the Story. Sorry AGAIN,**

**Love You All!**

**REVIEW.**

** I will Keep Typing, K? K!**


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19: SINKING AND LIVING. **

I slept that night; not the night right after the attack of Chance, but the night after that. I couldn't sleep that March night. A face I had seen a million times, but had seen in the last million days, was sleeping in the bed over.

Starved, dehydrated, weak, but surprisingly in shape, a small Irish boy named Spot Conlon remained. I cried that night. Like the final sinking of a ship.

I had started out way in the beginning as a girl. A girl who wouldn't have gotten on any boat. She would've refused; forcing herself to swim to whatever destination she had planned, even though she didn't have one. But she still would have dived in.

That girl who would take help from no one, met her match one day in a large city called New York. Spot Conlon didn't break that girl. He slowly helped her adapt, into the Spotette everyone had grown to love. She didn't fall into Spotette at once, it took time, she had mold into the love and trust her fellow Newsies shared with her.

That girl, Spotette, finally walked onto the ship waiting in that theoretical dock. She walked slowly at first, but by the time she was almost there she was full out sprinting. She settled in on the perfect boat, living with the one boy in the world who would stay by her no matter what.

The perfect life of Spotette sailed around on a peaceful ocean for the longest time. The water got bumpy, but no one really took any stress about it. It was normal.

Then, it sunk. The ship, that is. Smashing under the water in what seemed like a second. And it stayed that way, on the brink of being completely submerged for what seemed like forever. Sometimes, when things got real bad, Spotette seemed almost completely gone; waiting for the final blow to pull her down. Sometimes she considered just jumping into the ragged waters herself.

She couldn't find her love, she couldn't even find herself. A very special red headed boy kept her still, silently waiting for help to arrive. It seemed like it never would.

It dawned on Samantha 'Spotette' Brown she had too much to live for. Too much to fight for. So she did.

If she was going down, she was going down kicking and screaming. Like the perfect ending to a tragically intense book, lights began appearing from ahead.

And before I was able to realize it; a second ship had came to rescue us. And with that 'ship' came Spot Conlon.

* * *

Spot gained back his lost weight, smirking as he was forced to eat more than he was used to; proud that even though he was extremely skinny; layers of strong, tough, muscles continued to ripple when he moved even the slightest.

A sparkle slowly returned to his icy blue eyes; able to freeze up the stupidest or evilest newsies in their tracks; but able to minimize so that a bit of love, trust, and compassion could leak through.

You'd have to be really close to notice the little shift that lightened his eyes from steel cold to hidden love. So if you were close enough to him to see the change, I'd have to soak you.

Spot Conlon was Brooklyn. And I was lucky enough to get both, the borough in which I lived and the boy in which I loved.

I'm not going to lie, it was a hell of a fight to get where we are today. But I don't feel like repeating myself, because even though it would be impossible to forget the impossible times of my life, I'll live in the presence of the amazing, breath taking, love-filled ones.

I wasn't the girl who had showed up running through cops at the Lodging House doorsteps. I wasn't the believer in 'it's impossible for anything to go wrong'. I wasn't the extremely depressed girl either.

I was a mix. A good mix. I laughed and smiled and continued to be madly in love with the boy who almost killed me by accidentally disappearing, but I held strong in a fight, backing down to no one, much to Spot's displeasure. I was careful; I knew nothing would be calm forever, and I accepted that, living for the moments that made living worth it.

I've changed a lot, I guess. But if you don't change you don't grow. That's not exactly true of course, because the same old cocky, smirking, daring, feisty Spot Conlon hasn't changed a bit in this whole ordeal. Not one tiny bit. Which is good, because I wouldn't want him any other way. It wasn't true, the 'you change, you grow', like I was saying, because even at his 'reduced' height, Spot still stood a good five inches taller than me. I changed; and I hadn't grown an inch.

In a sense, we had grown though. We still lived at the Lodging House in Brooklyn, with Sean, too. He grew up just like Spot.

_Just_ like him. Literally. And all I have to say about that is…. God help the small, lost girl who will find him one day, even if not on purpose, because honestly, she'll need it.

But hey, look at me. I made it, if just barely, but I love every second of it, now that the worst is out of the way. The way I love every bit of Spot.

And just the way I continue to do so. Forever.

* * *

"Spot Conlon! Why are you still sleeping? You set a horrid example for these boys!" Spotette exclaimed to the lazy boy still in bed.

"Boys? Boys? There are no _boys_ in da Brooklyn Lodgin' House! Only da best _men_!" Spot exclaimed as he rolled onto his stomach groggily.

"Spot, Dippy's only seven." The gorgeous blond said, rolling her eyes.

"No, he don't count."

"Sure, now just get up." Spotette persisted.

"Fine, fine, I'm comin'."

"Okayyyy." She said as she exited the room.

"Women. Jeeze." Spot mumbled.

"Well this women, is planning on leaving, unless you get your sleepy bottom up out of bed!" Spotette yelled from a room over.

"Yeah, right."

"Fine. I see how it is." *Footsteps followed by a slamming door*

"Spotette! Wait! I'se up!" Spot screamed madly, sprinting out of bed and out of the room, only to turn the corner and crash directly into the same girl he thought had left.

"I love you." He whispered with laughter into Spotette's ear, following with a kiss.

"Good. I went through a lot for you, you know that?" She said when the kiss ended.

"What was that?" Spot said, putting his hand up to his ear as if he couldn't hear/

"What?"

"Hmmm?" He persisted.

"Fine!"

"Well…." Spot motioned for her to continue.

"I love you too!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in defeat.

The blue eyed boy smirked. "Good." And trotted off down the hall; away from his girlfriend, who was shaking her head, but smiling.

Spotette decided to wait until he was downstairs and almost out of the Lodging House before she called out, "You may want to put a shirt on. Or at least more than those boxers your currently wearing."

It took only seconds before a still smirking Spot rounded the corner. "Ya know, it's no fun when ya always win."

She returned the smirk and tenderlly kissed his cheek, "You'll live."

Just like each of them had; going against the unpredictable seasons of New York City, against the odds that no kid could survive on the street; that true love wasn't real; that for a street rat, there were no happily ever afters.

Spot Conlon and Spotette Brown proved everything wrong. They're still there in that Lodging House after all they've been through. And neither one plans on leaving.

* * *

**AUTHORS NOTE:**

**So? Ending? Or a Continued Version?**

**I'll Probally Add another Chappy about what happened to Burnin, Race, ETC.**

**BUT REVIEW! Please?**

**I want to know if you liked it, (the Whole story that is)**

**or if there are parts I need to redue/fix.**

**:]**


	20. Chapter 20

"Umm, hey Spot. During all the… stuff that happened, I found this," Burnin said, passing a golden necklace, a knife, and a yellow blanket to the handsome boy next to him.

"You been snoopin'? Dat's not good, not good…" Spot smirked, shaking his head. "Dat—" he said, picking up the blanket, "is de only ting I really have left from me childhood. It's da blanket me mum gave me when I'se was small. And dat der knife says, 'Like da fairytales.' I used ta be really inta happy endins for everything, so me grandma, Josephine, got dat engraved in da knife."

"That's funny, because you really did an ending 'like the fairytales'." Burnin said, smiling.

"Awww, Burnin, you see? Happy endings are stories dat haven't ended it. Mine'll keep gettin' better. You'se will see." Spot reached up and ruffled Burnin's red hair.

"What about the necklace?" Burnin continued, laughing at his friend.

"Dat I stole from pirates dat I had to kill," Spot said with a straight face. Burnin's eyes widened.

"Naw, I found it. Tanks for remindin' me bout it. I gotta perfect job for it." He laughed, and walked away. His tall buddy rolled his eyes, and flicked his hair out of his eyes, smiling.

"Good luck Spot, God knows you'll need it." Burnin whispered at Spot's disappearing back.

"Spotette?" I opened my eyes, napping.

"Mhhhhhhm?" I said into my pillow, it muffling the sound.

"Dis is for you." Spot said, tilting his head to one side. He held out his hand, and in it was a beautiful gold necklace. "Umm, if you take dis, it'll mean dat we'd be togethah forevah. No ifs, buts, or any udder crap. Alright?"

"Wipe that smirk off your face, and maybe I'll considah it." I said rolling over. "I'm kidding," I said, rolling back over facing him. "I love it. And I love you."

"I love you too." And with that, Spot picked me up and kissed me.

Burnin appeared in the door way holding Sean. "That's a happy ending if I ever saw one, isn't it, Spotlight?" and he smirked in his own goofy way when Sean replied,

"Soah is. Soah is."

And we all laughed. Together. Because no matter what happened, we'd be a family. Forever and always.

* * *

**The End. **

**So right, I went back and read this story, and my notes on the bottum pages are obnoixious.**

**& If I wasn't so lazy, I'd go back and fix them all, making them not-so-obnoxious.**

**But I'm lazy. **

**Whatcha gonna do?**

**Anywho, I was too terrified by reading just the beginning of this story to go back and even skim the first one. How Sad.**

**Some day, I'll go back and fix everything. Like some parts, I was like, "WHY WOULD I PUT THIS IN HERE?"**

**Because as a writer, you know that everything you put in has to have a deeper meaning; it's there for a reason, right?**

**NOPE. I fail. Someday I'll fix it. Someday.**

**Also, check out, **That Summer.** I'm really actually doing stuff right. HighFive. **

**And thank you, for sticking with me, if you're reading this. You're awesome. :3**

**I'm done now. KBye. **

**~Brennaberr. c:**


End file.
